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Granite State Magazine 

An Illustrated Monthly Devoted to the His- 

tor, Story, Scenery, Industry and 

Interest of New Hampshire 

Edited by George Waldo Browne 

July to December, 1907 

Manchester, N. h. 



V 698S63 
Contertte-tM. IV 


Allen, R. W. Parthenia E. Hurd-Allen 272 

Appletree, The (Poem). Charles A. Stickney 163 

Barrows, John S. Gone (Poem) 139 

Bashford, Herbert. Magic (Poem) 250 

Beverley, Frank Munroe. In My Acadia (Poem) 262 

Blair, Ed. Bound for Kansas (Poem) 166 

Bound for Kansas (Poem). Ed. Blair 166 

Browne, George Waldo. Early Voyageurs, The 196 

Journal of Capt. John White 21 

Literary Associations of the Merrimack River. 57, 117, 143 

Origin of the Name America 5 

Shadows Men Follow, The 34, 101, 129, 167, 231, 263 

Whip-poor-will, The (Poem) 29 

Brownell, Winsor. Three Famous Voyages 255 

Butler, Mary C. Message of the Hermit Thrush (Poem) 230 

Carew, Harold D. Chocheco's "Indian Night" 125 

Castles of Youth (Poem). Harry Romaine 198 

Chevy Chase. Staff Contributor 284 

Clock Inscription 283 

Cocheco's "Indian Night". Harold D. Carew 125 

Col. James Rogers. Walter Rogers 205 

Colby, Frederick Myron. Napoleon at Malmaison (Poem) 217 

Come Home (Poem). Alice D. O. Greenwood 271 

Company Orders 286 

Currier, John M., M. D. Folklore of the Connecticut Valley. .. 151 

Declaration of Independence, Signers of 283 

Discovery of Gold 286 




Early Discoverers of America. Winsor Brownell 255 

Early Voyageurs, The. George Waldo Browne 195 

Editor's Window, The- 47, 110, 178, 239, 282 

Emerson, Charles M. Granite State (Poem) 109 

English, Spread of 285 

Fairlee, Gray. Grave of a Revolutionary Hero 17 

Ferris, Mary L. D. Wayside Notes 180 

Flag, The. Staff Contributor 282 

Flag of Fort George. Victor St. Clair 30 

Folklore of the Connecticut Valley. John M. Currier, M. D 151 

Frost, Henrietta W. R. Tsienneto (Poem) 19 

Frost, L. J. H. Legend of Winnipesaukee 194 

Garrisons 47 

General Sullivan ond His Nearest Officers. Lucien Thompson.... 48 

Gilman, Joseph. Siege of the Wolves 160 

Gone (Poem). John S. Barrows 139 

Granite State (Poem). Charles M. Emerson 109 

Grave of a Revolutionary Hero. Gray Fairlee 17 

Greenwood, Alice D. O. Come Home (Poem) 271 

Griffith, George B. Thoreau and His Mother 251 

Hale, Nathan. Westward, Ho! 164 

Hammond, Isaac W. Slavery in New Hampshire 199 

Harbaugh, T. C. Magnolia and Pine (Poem) 99 

Heald, Charles B. Milford's Pioneer Pastor 187 

Heart of Childhood (Poem). Felicia Hemans 159 

Indirection (Poem). Mabel Porter Pitts , 229 

In My Acadia (Poem). Frank Munroe Beverly 262 

In the New Hampshire Hills (Poem). Selden L. Whitcomb 203 

John Acres of Dunstable. Ezra S. Stearns 48 

Kennedy, Daniel Edwards. Thoreau in Old Dunstable 247 

Legend of Winnipesaukee (Poem). L. J. H. Frost 194 

Levy, Amy, Peace (Poem) 150 


Literary Associations of the Merrimack River. George Waldo 

Browne - 57 

117, 123 

Literary Leaves. Editor 50, 112, 138, t 181, 240 

Longfellow's Literary Tact 284 

Magic (Poem). Herbert Bashf ord 250 

Magnolia and Pine (Poem), T. C. Harbaugh 99 

Message of the Hermit Thrush (Poem). Mary C. Butler 230 

Milford's Pioneer Pastor. Charles B. Heald 187 

Mitchell, Agnes E. When the Cows Come Home (Poem) 15 

Napoleon at Malmaison (Poem). Frederick Myron Colby 217 

New Hampshire (Poem). J. Q. A. Woods 113 

Notes and Queries 49, 110 

Old Oaken Bucket (Poem). Samuel Woodworth 183 

Origin of the Name America. George Waldo Browne 5 

Our River (Poem). John Greenleaf Whittier 53 

Parthenia E. Hurd-Allen. R. W. Allen 272 

Peace (Poem). Amy Levy 150 

Perham, Harry Leavitt. To the Virgin Mary 128 

Pictures from a Picture Land. J. Warren Thyng 1 

Pitts, Mabel Porter. Indirection (Poem) 229 

Revolutionary Pension Declarations. Lucien Thompson 17, 110, 111 

Rogers, Walter. Col. James Rogers 205 

Romaine, Harry. Castles of Youth (Poem) 198 

Sabine, Julia A. Secret of the Haunted House 219 

St. Clair, Victor. Flag of Fort George 30 

Scout Journals. George Waldo Browne 21 

Seal of the State 178 

Secret of the Haunted House. Julia A. SabinE 219 

Shadows Men Follow, The. George Waldo Browne 34, 101 

129, 167, 231, 263 
Siege of the Wolves. Joseph Gilman :.. 160 



Slavery in New Hampshire. Isaac W. Hammond , . . 199 

Staff Contributor. The Flag 282 

Chevy Chase 284 

Stearns, Ezra S. John Acres of Dunstable 48 

Sticknet, Charles A. The Appletree (Poem) 163 

Thompson, Lucien. Gen. Sullivan and His Nearest Officers 48 

Revolutionary Pension Declarations 67 

Thoreau in Old Dunstable. Daniel Edwards Kennedy 247 

Thoreau and His Mother. George B. Griffith , 251 

Three Famous Voyages. Winsor Brownell 255 

Thyng, J. Warren. Pictures from a Picture Land 1 

To the Virgin Mary (Poem). Harry Leavitt Perham 128 

Tsienneto (Poem). Henrietta W. R. Frost 19 

Wayside Notes. Mary L. D. Ferris 180 

1 Westward, Ho! Nathan Hale 164 

When the Cows Come Home (Poem). Agnes E.Mitchell 15 

Whip-poor-will, The (Poem). George Waldo Browne 29 

White, Capt. John, Journal of. George Waldo Browne 21 

Whttcomb, Selden L. In the New Hampshire Hills (Poem) 203 

Whittier, John Greenleaf. Our River (Poem) 53 

Woods, J. Q. A. New Hampshire (Poem) 113 

Woodworth, Samuel. Old Oaken Bucket (Poem) 183 

Yankee Wit 179 



Slavery in New Hampshire. Isaac W. Hammond 199 

Staff Contributor. The Flag 282 

Chevy Chase 284 

Stearns, Ezra S. John Acres of Dunstable 48 

Sticknet, Charles A. The Appletree (Poem) 163 

Thompson, Lucien. Gen. Sullivan and His Nearest Officers 48 

Revolutionary Pension Declarations 67 

Thoreau in Old Dunstable. Daniel Edwards Kennedy 247 

Thoreau and His Mother. George B. Griffith 251 

Three Famous Voyages. Winsor Brownell 255 

Thyng, J. Warren. Pictures from a Picture Land 1 

To the Virgin Mary (Poem). Harry Leavitt Perham 128 

Tsienneto (Poem). Henrietta W. R. Frost 19 

Wayside Notes. Mary L. D. Ferris 180 

w Westward, Ho! Nathan Hale 164 

When the Cows Come Home (Poem). Agnes E.Mitchell 15 

Whip-poor-will, The (Poem). George Waldo Browne 29 

White, Capt. John, Journal of. George Waldo Browne 21 

Whitcomb, Selden L. In the New Hampshire Hills (Poem) .... 203 

Whittier, John Greenleaf. Our River (Poem) 53 

Woods, J. Q. A. New Hampshire (Poem) 113 

Woodworth, Samuel. Old Oaken Bucket (Poem) 183 

Yankee Wit * 179 

Hurt of ^llturtrattons 


American Bride of Ancient Days, An Cpp 5 

Ancient America, Chief of , 9 

King of 9 

By the Shores of Inland Waters Opp 65 

Baston's Mill, Woodstock. Drawn by J. Warren Thyng Frontispiece 

Cocheco in 1689, Plan of Opp 125 

Emerson, Ralph Waldo Opp 143 

First Meeting-House, Milford Opp 190 

From Mountain to Sea Opp 113 

Gone. Illustrated Poem 139-142 

Grave of Gen. John Stark Opp 17 

Larcom, Lucy Opp 143 

Last of His Race, The Opp 117 

Main Hallway of Moore Mansion Opp 187 

Merrimack River Opp 57 

Moore Homestead, Milford Opp 190 

Moore, Rev. Humphrey Opp 186 

"Moored.on Its Calm Surface an Island" Opp 121 

Nashua River Opp 54 

Native American Ship Opp 5 

Near to Nature Opp 159 

Old Garrison at Cocheco Opp 28 

Old Oaken Bucket, The. Illustrated Poem 183-186 



Pictures from a Picture Land. Ten Etchings by J. Warren Thyng 1-4 

Scenes Along the Picturesque Merrimack Opp 150-151 

Third Disappearance, The Opp 255 

Thoreau, Henry D Opp 143 

Thoreau, Henry D Opp 247 

Where the Wild Fowl Come and Go Opp 262 

Whittier. John Greenleaf., Opp 143 

Whittier School-House Opp 243 

Voyageurs, In the Days of the Opp 145 




JULY, 1907. 

No. 1 


I Granite State 
















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OJrantte J>tate |Baga?me 

Vol. IV. JULY, 1907. No. 1. 

Origin of tije J^ame America 

By George Waldo Browne 

CENTRAL AMERICA is not the only portion of 
this continent which affords in its half-buried ruins 
evidence of a high order of civilization. At the 
time of the explorations of Columbus the Peruvian empire 
was the mightiest power in the New World, and a nation 
of marked civilization, whose dominion extended from the 
equator on the north to Buenos Ayres on the south; the 
Atlantic ocean on the east and the Pacific on the west. 
On the latter ocean it had a seacoast of 2,500 miles, from 
Pastos to the river Maule. The inhabitants grew cotton, 
spun fine cloths, made pottery, refined silver ore, and manu- 
factured bronze. Their highways were marvels of engineer- 
ing feats; the road from Cuzco to Quito, 1,506 miles in 
length, was forty feet in width and as level as a floor. This 
broad thoroughfare was paved with stone and earth, the 
mountains tunnelled, the marshes made passable by solid 
masonry and the streams spanned by suspension bridges 
very similar to the modern ideas. One of these was 225 
feet in length and strong enough for loaded animals to pass 
in safety. 

Peru was a province of the powerful and extensive 
empire, which was the Sirius of native American splendor. 
From the sacred book of the Peruvians we get at the truth 
of the origin of the name America, which tells us that this 
vast dominion was known as Amarca, while it had many 
towns and localities with that name made distinctive by* 



some appropriate prefix. For instance they had Cundin- 
Amarca, Caj-Amarca, Vin-Amarca, Pult-Amarca, and so 
on. Now Cundin meant a place of great natural beauty 
and wealth — Paradise; hence, the region located in the 
country drained by the Oronoco river was Paradise-Amarca. 
This territory was supposed by the Spanish to contain 
fabulous wealth, and within its domains was the "Golden 
City." Vast expenditures of money and risking of life 
were staked to find it. Another of the prefixes, "Caj," 
meant frosty or cold, and another, "Pult," meant sulphur; 
"Vin" meant the place of vines, and so on, with an aptness 
in regard to the physical features, or some cause just as we 
should apply a name. 

Finally the national name was changed slightly to 
Amerca, and then an "i" was inserted after the r, and so it 
came to be spelled as we now spell it. 

During the explorations of Columbus Albertigo Ves- 
pucci — there was no Amerigo Vespucci known at that 
time — made his three voyages of discovery (1499, 1501, 
1502), following the coast of America from the north to 
the south; he learned of the Golden City, of the Paradise 
of the Oronoco, and he too knew this country as America. 
It could not have been different. He visited the New 
World not only to behold with his own eyes its wonders, 
but to describe them that others might know of them. 
Thus while Colu'mbus was trying to solve the problem of a 
passage to East India this Florentine merchant was writing 
vivid descriptions of the new discovery. The publication 
of his works made him rich and famous throughout Europe. 
He died in 1512. 

In those days it was customary to link a man's name 
with any object accomplished or deed done worthy of per- 
petuation. In this way the Italian author became known 
as the American Vespucci, or in Latin Americus, Italian 
Amerigo. Perhaps he applied this name to himself, very 
much as business men in these times apply some cognomen 
which speaks of their calling. It is easy to see how those 


who read his works could thus come to consider him as the 
one for whom America was called. Not only were the 
common readers deceived, but one so high in learning and 
the affairs of the day as Waltzemuller, Monk of St. Die, 
accepted the current belief and perpetuated it in print. 

The invention of printing had come into use about that 
time and the Monastery of St. Die, having just come into 
possession of a press from the Duke of Lorraine, the monks 
considered it to be an act of respect to their friend, whose 
manuscripts they had read, to print one of his works, and at 
the same time show the wonder of the new art. Accordingly 
a little pamphlet appeared, in the preface of which they 
recommended that the new continent be named after its 
discoverer, Americus. This publication, among the first, if 
not the first, of their publications, had a map of the New 
World, and was perhaps the source from which the mistake 
in regard to the origin of name came. This was in 1507, 
and five years later Strobinza issued a map at Rome, fol- 
lowing the idea of Waltzemuller of St. Die. But this 
monk had now learned of his error and did what he could 
to set the matter right. He immediately published a new 
map, designating the new continent as "The New Land." 
He wrote on the margin, "This land was discovered by 
Columbus, an officer under the orders of the King of 

Meanwhile, during these five years, Ruysch had put 
out a chart of the newly discovered country, without giving 
it a name. In 151 1 Sylvanus published a map, designating 
the new hemisphere as the "Land of the Holy Cross." 
Others recorded it as "New India," or "India Occidental." 
Still others, more familiar with the subject, styled what is 
now North America as America-Mexicana, and South 
America as America-Peruviana. Brazil was yet another 
name applied to the Southern Continent. 

The first to adopt the suggestion of Waltzemuller in 
his "Cosmographiae Introductio" seems to have been an 
anonymous writer and publisher, who about 1509 issued a 


little pamphlet entitled "Globus Mundi." This publication 
is not only memorable as being the first book to contain 
the name America, as applied to the continent, but for hav- 
ing a map of the eastern hemisphere, showing in the lower 
corner, in about the same longitude as Cape Good Hope, a 
fragment of the newly discovered continent. Notwith- 
standing the christening given this in the text, this territory 
is here designated as Nuiw Welt, or New World. 

In 1520 Apianus issued his map, giving the new 
country again the name of America, and the christening 
of the New World was accomplished. The majority of 
historians and makers of maps accept the belief that 
Apianus named the country in honor of Americus Ves- 
puccius. This brings us to that question which if correctly 
answered would settle the whole matter. Where did this 
scholar and savant get his authority for the name? Was 
he deluded by Waltzmuller's erroneous statement, after- 
wards corrected, or did he adopt that of the ancient Peru- 
vians, which must have been known to him? Those who 
have delved deepest into the secrets of the past agree that 
he adopted the native name for several reasons One of 
them says: 

"There is no evidence that Vespucci named America, 
or that he ever attempted to do so. If it had been named 
after him it would most probably have been named Vespucci, 
after the sirname, as is customary. Vespucci is called 
Albertigo, which shows that Amerigo was not his proper 
name. Columbus would have objected to this; so would 
his friends. Proud Spain would have been insulted and 
would not have permitted this injustice to Columbus. 
While paying his remains the highest honors, the haughty 
Castilian would never have permitted a foreigner, an Italian, 
to name this Spanish triumph, discovered by another, and 
by means of money borrowed on the diamonds of the 
crown. 'To Castile and Leon Columbus gave a new world,' 
emblazoned on his tomb, speaks for itself, as well as the 
subsequent care which was taken of his remains. He died 



at Valladolid in 1506, later on was taken to Seville, in 1536 
was transferred to St. Domingo, and in 1597 was buried in 
the Cathedral of Havana. Besides these reasons, we may 
ask, why were other names given to the country many 
years subsequent to the suggestion to name it after Ves- 
pucci? Why was the name adopted after they knew that 
those who had made that suggestion had withdrawn it and 
explained the error from which it originated? 




"What reason is there for supposing that a name was 
accepted which was suggested by people who had nothing 
to do whatever with the new-found country or its Spanish 
explorers? If the name were given to the country by Ves- 
pucci or his friends^ why was it otherwise known during 
his life, while that of America does not appear on a map 
until eight years after his death? In a word, there is not a 
single fact in unison with the assumption that America is 
named after Vespucci. 

"On the other hand, the evidence is positive and with- 
out a single difficulty. The Peruvians were a nation of 
great civilization, a gigantic empire, the chief in the west- 
ern hemisphere, whose people were those first known to 
the Spanish explorers who knew the native name. Besides 
this, Cundin-America, or Paradise America, was the most 
famous locality in the new world. It was reported to con- 


tain untold treasures and created such intense excitement 
that Spain resolved to spend millions of treasure to find 
it. Three expeditions accidentally met there in 1534. 
One was commanded by a German, another by the Spanish 
governor, and a third by Ouisada, who marched across the 
Andes from Quito, on the Pacific. None of these found 
the treasure, but the wild excitement continued unabated, 
like that which had previously existed concerning the foun- 
tain of youth." 

More might be quoted, but it does not seem necessary. 
Was more proof needed it is to be found in the time-honored 
name, which is formed of three roots, Am-ar-ca, or Am-eri-ca. 
"Am" is a universal root meaning great, and is found in 
many American names, as in Amagansett, Amatitlan, and 
others. "Ar" meant the sun, which was universally the 
chief emblem of God, the Great Spirit. The Incas were 
children of the sun, or descendants of their God. The 
sacred meaning of the root "r" is apparent in Indian 
names in both North and South America. In other parts 
of the world it was used to express the most sublime 
thought. In Egypt it meant divine manifestation; in 
Arabic, victory; in Hebrew, celestial light; in Assyrian, 
eternal splendor; in Chaldaean, God; in Persian, beautiful; 
in Median, sun; in Malayan, chief God; in New Zealand, 
great or strong, and in Irish, noble. The root "r" appears 
in about all the languages of ancient and modern times 
wherein philology has explored. Indeed, in Anglo-Saxon 
it has given the geographical appellation to the entire 
planet in the word Earth, a being a prefix and th a suffix. 
It was found in Sanscrit, and is re-echoed in all its divis- 
ions. It was found in the oldest names of India, Persia, 
Egypt, Greece, Ireland, and in America, the chief nation 
of the western hemisphere. The universal use of this root 
on continents and islands, in languages both ancient and 
modern, whether spoken by the uncivilized or enlightened, 
urges upon us the conclusion that Moses knew what he 
was saying when he recorded the story of creation and 


said that "the whole earth was of one language and one 

The root "ca" the last syllable in the word America, 
means land. It is the same as the Greek "sa " and is 
found in Chinese, Japanese, Scandinavian and American 
dialects. Now putting together the three roots thus 
defined and we have "am," great; "ca," land; and "ar" or 
"eri," of the sun. So that America is the great land of 
the sun. 

In the light of all evidence afforded does it not seem 
more reasonable that the name adopted for the new conti- 
nent was that of the largest and most powerful nation of 
the native inhabitants? Rome set this example in calling 
Africa the name of the first country of that division of 
land known to them. To say that America was so called 
for Vespucci is to imply deception to him whose reputation 
was above reproach in every respect, to impute to the most 
learned men of those times an ignorance not in keeping 
with them, to charge Spain with a neglect to rob the honor 
of her favorite hero which she never would have allowed, 
and give to Vespucci dead a name he never possessed while 
living. Some one erred at the outset, and others, without 
questioning the truth of the matter, followed carelessly in 
his path until the word of one became the belief of the 
multitude. America, in its true origin, is the oldest and 
most honorable of the continental names, reflecting the 
greatness of the Children of the Sun, the modesty of its 
Great Discoverer, and the honor of its first historian. 

This conclusion affords us the satisfaction that no 
wrong has been done any one, that we live under a name 
as ancient as human speech, and whose origin is traced 
to the gods. 

The sacred book of the Ancient Peruvians, "Popol 
Vuh," contains the following mythical account of the 
origin of the name of their empire, and also the old story 
of the forbidden fruit. This legend goes on to say that 
near Palenca, Central America, was a place called Culan at 


first, but afterwards known as Xibalba. During the reign 
of Hun Came and Vukub Came, the two kings of Xibalba, 
Hunhun Ahpu and Vukub Ahpu, two Mexican princes, 
were executed on a charge of creating a revolt in that 
kingdom. As a monument of their punishment, the head 
of Hunhun Ahpu was placed on a dead tree which, on 
receiving the head, returned to life and bore fruit. The two 
kings forbade any one to touch it, but Ixquic, daughter of 
a Xibalbian prince, was prompted by curiosity to take of 
the forbidden fruit. As the daughter approached the tree, 
the voice of Hunhun Aphu warned her, asking her desire, 
and commanded that she extend her arms. He then placed 
sacred saliva upon her hand, and it immediately disap- 
peared, producing a certain effect. On returning home 
the maid was accused by her father and condemned to 
death by the court; but, aided by the executioners, she 
escaped to the mother of Hunhun Aphu, who received her 
as a daughter-in-law. At this place Ixquic remains, rears 
twin sons who perform many wonders, killing and restoring 
themselves to life. The kings of Xibalba command that 
the twins repeat the wonder upon their sovereigns. Upon 
this the twins killed their majesties, bnt do not restore them 
to life. This feat being accomplished, they retire to Utlatlan, 
the seat of the common people, declare war, defeat Xibalba, 
and form one empire, making Utlatlan the capital, but 
changing its name to Amarca before so doing. 

The written history of this ancient race shows that 
they were a strong and progressive people. The con- 
querors of weaker nations, they were enabled to build 
their towns in the richest and most desirable localities to 
be found. Thus they selected a compact mountain system 
of states — the most picturesque and strongest in its natural 
defenses in the world, — and reaching nearly the entire 
length of South America, or over four thousand miles. 
Walled in by high mountains, its valleys were especially 
adapted for the roadbeds of those highways of travel which 
have been the wonder of all who have seen them. "The 



roads in this kingdom are the most useful and stupendous 
works ever executed by man," said Baron de Humboldt, to 
whom we are indebted for much of our information. 
"Their four chief routes from Cuzco rival the best Roman 
work, frequently going into the region of perpetual snow 
— completely closed in winter — over giant precipices by 
steps — crossing rivers by solid masonry or suspension 
bridges swung with osier ropes, leading along the table 
lands of Pasco — the highest point of the Andes occupied by 
man — to the richest silver mines at an elevation of fourteen 
thousand feet above the level of the sea; and only fifteen 
hundred below the perpetual snow line." Eight of the 
great highways crossed Chili, while six were in Bolivia and 
three in Peru. Many of the roads led to great furnaces 
wheie the gold was smelted, and passed the populous cities 
of the empire, with their subterranean treasure vaults, 
which if they could be unearthed would enrich the whole 
world. The king's palace in Cassa-Amarca was hewn out 
of solid rock and embossed with gold. 

The king, or Incas as he was known, traveled these 
beautiful roads in a sedan chair carried upon the shoulders 
of four faithful and willing servitors, who looked upon this 
privilege as a great honor. Where the kingly ruler stopped 
the place was henceforth looked upon as sacred. Prayers 
and acclamations arose as the grand equipage drew near, 
and royal postmen stood ready to bear the messages to the 
interior cities at a speed of one hundred and fifty miles a 
day. Ever eager for conquest, one of these kings had at 
his command an army of two hundred thousand men, 
armed with tomahawks, bows, arrows and lances of sharp 
bone or copper. The nobility had weapons mounted with 
gold or silver, and they wore helmets of wood or tiger 

Marriage was compulsory, the maid being obliged to 
marry before she was twenty and the young man before he 
was twenty-four. Marriages of the nobility were performed 
with great ceremony and acclaim. The bride was clothed 


from the waist to the knees in a tunic of rich feathers, 
while her person was adorned with rare shells and pearls. 
A gold chain encircled her neck. Six noblemen, preceded 
by musicians and two bearers of huge, ornamented feather 
fans, they followed by ballet dancers and the bride's rela- 
tives, announced the coming of the fair one. She quickly 
appeared and, ascending the floral steps, was assisted into 
a beautiful sedan chair by her parents. This chair was deco- 
rated with green bows and floral decorations, and borne 
with its happy burden upon the shoulders of noblemen 
chosen for the occasion. At the bridegroom's residence 
she was conducted to the side of her future husband, who 
rose from an elevated dais to escort her to the king with a 
great show of pomp and ceremony. In warm weather 
bridesmaids fanned them with beautiful tropical feathers, 
and in the season the unfermented juice of grape was 
offered them in golden goblets. Upon reaching the royal 
palace the king taking both their hands in his invoked the 
blessing while they knelt. At the hour of sunset the 
happy couple walked, hand in hand, into an open field and 
kneeling toward the west commended themselves and their 
posterity to divine protection. Music and dancing followed 
until the stars came forth, when lamps were lighted to 
announce the wedding feast. 

Cassa-Amarca is now comprised in northern Peru, with 
a population of less than three hundred thousand people, 
and having only fourteen thousand square miles, a very 
insignificant remnant of the one-time rich and glorious 
kingdom of Amarca, before the days of Spanish discovery 
and conquest. 

Wi)tn tlje Cotos Come ^ome 

By Agnes E. Mitchell 

With klingle, klangle, klingle, 

Way down the dusky dingle, 
The cows are coming home; 

Now sweet and clear, and faint and low, 

The airy tinklings come and go, 

Like chimings from some far-off tower, 
Or patterings of an April shower 

That make the daisies grow: 

Ko-ling, ko-lang, ko-linglelingle, 

Way down the darkening dingle, 
The cows come slowly home; 

And old-time friends, and twilight plays, 

And starry nights and sunny days, 

Come trooping up the misty ways 
When the cows come home. 

With jingle, jangle, jingle, 

Soft sounds that sweetly mingle, 
The cows are coming home; 

Malvine, and Pearl, and Florimel, 

De Kamp, Red Rose, and Gretchen Schell, 
Queen Bess, and Sylph, and Spangled Sue, 
Across the fields I hear her loo-oo. 

And clang her silver bell: 

Go-ling, go-lang, go-linglelingle, 

With faint far sounds that mingle, 
The cows come slowly home; 

And mother-songs of long-gone years, 

And baby joys, and childish tears. 

And youthful hopes and youthful fears, 
When the cows come home. 

With ringle, rangle, ringle, 
By twos and threes and single, 
The cows are coming home; 



Through violet air we see the town, 
And the summer sun a-slipping down; 
The maple in the hazel glade 
Throws down the path a longer shade, 
And the hills are growing brown; 
To-ring, to-rang, to-ringleringle, 
By threes and fours and single, 

The cows come slowly home; 
The same sweet sound of wordless psalm, 
The same sweet June-day rest and calm, 
The same sweet scent of bud and balm, 
When the cows come home. 

With tinkle, tankle, tinkle, 
Through fern and periwinkle, 

The cows are coming home; 
A-loitering in the checkered stream, 
Where the sun rays gleam and gleam, 

Clarine, Peachblossom and Phoebe, Phyllis, 
Stand knee-deep in the creamy lilies, 
In a drowsy dream: 
To-link, to lank, to-linklelinkle, 
O'er banks with buttercups a-twinkle, 

The cows come slowly home; 
And up through Memory's deep ravine 
Come the brook's old song and its old-time sheen, 
And the crescent of the silver Queen. 
When the cows come home. 

With klingle, klangle, klingle, 

With loo-oo, and moo-oo, and jingle, 

The cows are coming home; 
And over there on Merlin hill 
Hear the plaintive cry of the Whip-poor-will; 
The dewdrops lie on the tangled vines, 
And over the poplars Venus shines, 
And over the silent mill: 
Ko-ling, ko-lang, ko-linglelingle, 
With ting-aling and jingle, 

The cows came slowly home. 
Let down the bars, let in the train 
Of long-gone songs, and flowers and rain, 
For dear old times come back again, 

When the cows come home. 



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OSrabe of a Cteboluttonarp $fero 

By Gray Fairlee 

No trappings of state, their bright honors unfolding, 
No gorgeous display, mark the place of thy rest; 

But the granite points out where thy body lies moulding, 
And where the wild rose sheds its sweets o'er thy breast. 

— H. W. Herrick. 


ILE his grave is marked, without any ornate 
display, by a simple granite shaft, General John 
Stark, the hero of Bennington and of the French 
and Indian Wars, sleeps upon the western slope of one of 
the prettiest parks to be found in the Merrimack Valley. 
This plot of land, which formerly belonged to the home of 
the father of this hero and from him was inherited by his 
descendants, was recently purchased by the city of Man- 
chester, N. H., and has been neatly fitted up for a public 

The park occupies about thirty acres of land, sloping 
gently toward the river bank, where the noble Merrimack 
moves softly and slowly past, as if it realized it was passing 
a sacred spot. Across the silvery waters the landscape, 
generously clothed in "verdure green," is dotted with farm- 
houses that peep out from beautiful shade trees surrounded 
by forests, in pretty array, while on the hills in the back- 
ground are forests whose artistic combinations of green in 
the distance mingle with the blue of the sky. In the sun- 
lit west are the hills of Dunbarton, with the twin summits 
of the Uncanoonucs crowning the picturesque landscape. 

The grave of the soldier is situated on the shoulder of 
the slope where he rests within sight and sound of the 
river he loved so well. Not far away is the site of his 
homestead, where he passed his declining years and, in 
fact, all of his life except when he was away upon the war 



trail of the dusky scouts, on some hunting expedition or 
among the brave yeomanry of his country, helping to win 
its Independence. 

A concrete walk leads nearly down to the sacred repose 
of Stark, but stops in season not to mar the beauty of the 
yard with its disfigurement, The simple plot, encircled by 
an iron fence, was conveyed to the city a little over a quar- 
ter of a century ago, upon the stipulation that no further 
interments should be made within its inclosure without 
special permit from the descendants of the General. Six 
or eight members of the family are buried here, their 
graves marked with plain slabs, the most noteworthy of 
which was, until it broke and crumbled away, a low, ancient 
stone, with curved top and a liberal display of curious em- 
blems that served to remind the beholder of the mortality 
of his existence. It bore in discolored and nearly effaced 
characters the inscription, "Here lyes the body of Mr. 
Archibald Stark, who departed this life June 25, 1758, aged 
61 years." He was the father of General Stark, as well as 
of the three other boys, all of whom became more or less 
renowned in the early history of this region. 

The monument to General Stark is most fittingly a 
plain granite block nearly nine feet in height, tapering 
toward the top, and about a yard from the ground set in 
from two sides, relieving somewhat the monotony of its 
shape. It is now weather-beaten and its lettering is some- 
what difficult to decipher. The inscription simply says: 



May 8, 1822 
Aet. 94 

Near by sleeps his wife, her grave marked with a slab 
saying, "Mrs. Elizabeth Stark, consort of Gen. John Stark. 
Died in 18 14, aged 77." 



A beautiful road, known appropriately as the "River 
road,'' winds along the hillside rising from the river, and 
has at intervals several beautiful and spacious private 
grounds, with their dwellings all speaking of architectural 
plans now belonging to a day past. 

Altogether the last resting place of the Revolutionary 
hero is an ideal spot for such a person, and though a big city is 
rapidly springing about his silent abode, the old Merrimack 
that he loved so well sings the same songs as of yore, and 
if the axe of the despoiler continues to ravage the forests 
he knew so well, the distant hills still lift broad shoulders, 
tree-clad, and the setting sun throws its bars of gold over 
the mountains that fret-work the horizon, as it did in the 
days of the gallant pioneer. 


By Henrietta W. R. Frost 

Tsienneto (pronounced Shaw-ne-to), which word means "sleeping in 
beauty," is the Indian name applied to the beautiful sheet of water 
nestling in among the hills of Derry, N. H., and commonly called Beaver 
Lake, whose outlet, Beaver River, flows into the Merrimack. — Author. 

calm, serene Tsienneto! 
Asleep at break of day. 

The birches bend still nearer 
To hear the winds at play. 

For nestled on thy bosom 

Sweet Nature loves to rest, 
And only those who bend to hear 
' Can learn the song in quest. 

1 fain would learn the story 
The birds have sung so long. 

O tell it me, I pray thee! 
Ill give it back in song. 


111 don the spirit of repose 
And lay me down and dream, 

And watch the clouds float airily 
Above this spot serene. 

Where "Jenny-dickey's" waters 
Come tumbling o'er the hill, 

The maiden-hair and columbine 
Have flourished long at will. 

The beech and birch and hemlock 
Have shaded pool and fall, 

And heaven's cerulean blueness 
Has tenderly crowned all. 

Primeval forests long ago 

Surrounded ev'ry shore, 
And red men roamed the uncut way 

And sailed these waters o'er. 

This was the "happy hunting ground" 
Where Wonnolancet brave, 

And chief of all the Penacooks, 
His hunting lessons gave. 

And Hannah Dustin walked these shores 

In days of dire distress; 
When life meant action to the hearts 

Who stood for faithfulness. 

Methinks I hear the paddle's sound, 
And see beneath the trees 

The war-time dance; the wigwam's smoke 
That came from such as these. 

But 'tis a dream. Tsienneto sleeps 

In beauty undismayed. 
The "pipe of peace" still burneth; 

We need not be afraid. 

The white man claims these borders 
Where once the red man trod, 

And bird and beast and tree and flower 
Still live to worship God. 

^cout Journals 



One of the Scouts During Lovewell's War in Northern 
New England 

[Compiled from the Massachusetts Archives, Edited and Annotated by 
George Waldo Browne] 


Captain John White was born in Lancaster, Mass., 
September 20, 1684. His grandfather, John White, came 
from the west part of England sometime between 1635 
and 1638, as we find him in the Province of Salem at the 
latter date. He had two sons, Thomas and Josiah, the 
first of whom settled in Wenham and the latter on his 
father's estate in Lancaster. The subject of our sketch 
was the son of Josiah and Mary (Rice) White. He married 
Eunice, daughter of Lieutenant Nathaniel and Mary 
(Sawyer) Wilder, who survived him, as well as several 

Captain White was a cooper and blacksmith by trade, 
and was a strong, powerful man, of commanding presence, 
and a natural leader. His family had suffered from the 
depredations of the Indians, his father's house having been 
fired by a prowling band, and he was always ready to rally 
his men to follow the war trail of the enemy. He seemed 
to have been upon several scouting raids, one of the most 
important of which was the scout made by Captain Love- 
well on his second expedition when ten Indians were slain, 
and their scalp-locks brought home in triumph, to receive a 
bounty from the Massachusetts province. While he was 
fitted and honored with a command, he volunteered under 



Captain John Lovewell, and went with him in his 2d expe- 
dition, to encourage others to enlist. This march lasted 
40 days. 

Then he marched to a place called Cohosse on Con- 
necticut River, thinking to surprise the enemies there, and 
came in at Fort Dummer, being out 35 days without meet- 
ing the Indians. (This was the scout belonging to his 

Within 8 days after his return from this arduous trip 
he had rallied a company to follow in the footsteps of the 
unfortunate Lovewell, to help bury him and his dead com- 

Then he went, at his own cost, to the Connecticut to 
raise a company of Mohege (Mohawks) in order to go to 
St. Francis and raize that stronghold. Failing in this he 
returned home and soon enlisted a company of volunteers 
with the purpose of marching upon a fort beyond Pig- 
wacket. He was taken sick while on this expedition, and 
was forced to return home, where he died Sept. 12, 1725, 
lacking a few days of being 41 years of age, when he 
should have been in the full vigor of his strong manhood. 

He left 7 children, the eldest being only 15 years old. 
The Mass. courts granted on the widow's petition for 
assistance one hundred pounds, on December 28, 1727. 

There is no doubt that his repeated hardships 
shortened the life of Captain White, while he went to 
considerable expense which was never compensated in way 
of fitting out his men, to say nothing of loss of time. His 
widow Eunice died May 15, 1778. 

gov. dummer's instructions to capt. white, and 


Sr. Having Commissionated you to Command a Com- 
pany of Voluntiers against the Indian Enemy, you are 
hereby Directed to Exercise and maintain good Dis- 
clippline and Government among your Officers and Soldiers 


and to Suppress and punish all Disorders, Vice and Immor- 
ality and to Keep up the Worship of God in your said 
Company. Yon must march to Pigwacket, unless you 
shall upon mature Consideration Judge any other tour 
more effectual for the service, withall Convenient Dispatch 
Joining such Company of Voluntiers in the County of Mid- 
dlesex as shall be ready to proceed with you and from 
thence march to such places where by your Intelligence 
may Judge it probable to meet with the Indian Enemy, 
If you judge it necessary to keep the whole Body together 
in order- to attack any Tribe or Settlement of Indians I 
shall approve of your so doing, otherwise that Two Com- 
panys or halfe your Body Proceed East & the other halfe 
to proceed from Pigwacket to strike over to Amrescoggin 
& Kennebeck River, endeavoring to get higher up the said 
Rivers then the places of the Indian Settlements one party 
of which to Come down Amrescoggin River to Fort 
George & and the other down Kennebeck River to Rich- 
mond, and if your provision should fall short so as that the 
whole cannot be sufficiently furnish for the march to 
Amrescoggin & Kennebeck Rivers, some of your feeblest 
men must come into Berwick. The remaining part of the 
Body to go off to the North Westward in Quest of the 
Indian Enemy said to be there taking with them the 
Mohawks for their Guides. Let your Marches be with ail 
the Secrecy and Silence as well as Dispatch you are Capa- 
ble of. You must Kill, Take & Destroy to the utmost of 
your power all the Enemy Indians you can meet with in 
your March, and Search for their Corn destroying all you 
can find. And give Intelligence from time to time of 
everything of Importance that may happen. 

Mass. Archives, Vol, 72, p. 250. 


Lancaster, May 9 1725. 
May it please Your Honour. 

Being returned home I thought myself obliged to inform your 
Honour that on the 5th of April last I went from Lancaster to Dunstable 


and the Sth day of April from thence up Merromock with 30 men two of 
which came back in a short time one of them being sick and ye other hav- 
ing scalt himself very badly. I marched up Meremock about 130 milds, 
and there discovered some signs of Indens. Some old which we judged 
were made sometime this Winter and one new track on the back of the 
river that we judged had gone but a few days before. I sent out skouts 
but could discover nothin further. We then turned off westward towards 
Cowass. Marched 10 milds the 24th of April. At evening one of our 
men viz Sam Mossman of Sudbury being about to encampt took hold of 
his gun that stood among some Bushes drew it back towards him with 
the muzzle to wards him some twig caught hold of the cock the gun went 
off and shot him through he died Immediately. We went acrost to Con- 
necticut River came down to Northfield and thence acrost the woods to 
Lancaster. We got in yesterday. I have endeavoured faithfully to attend 
your Honours already received, and if your Honour have any further 
advise for me I desire your Honour would let me know it. I have not as 
yet completed my Journall but I hope to finish it in a short time that it 
may be laid before your Honour. 

I am your Honours most obedient humble servant 



Sir, I have the Account of ye March & Return by your Letter of the 9 
Instant & approve of your proceedings, tho' I am heartily grieved for the 
Death of the poor Man, & wonder that so many unhappy Accidents of 
this Kind have not sufficient to warn our People of the Effects of such 
Indiscretion. The Season being now advanced for the Appearance of the 
Enemy, and it being more likely to meet with them now than before, I 
desire you would go out with the Same Number of Men & upon the same 
Establishment which will be allow you; I should be glad (if) you immedi- 
ately proceed, & make up a Muster Roll for your two Marches upon your 
Return. For m Time will otherwise be lost at this critical Juncture. 
However if you must first come to Town let there be no Delay; If any of 
your men are backward to go out again you must enlist others to make up 
your number. I shall not prescribe any Rout to you, you being best able 
to judge where the Enemy may be mett with: Carry out as much Pro- 
vision as you can, That you maynt be obliged to return very soon: Be 
very silent & watchful on your March & Ambushments. I heartily wish you 
success, and am your Serv. 


Boston 11 May 1725 
Capt White 
Capt Welds 

(Mass. Archives, Vol. 72, p. 233.) 



A true jurrnall of my travels began the 

5th of April 1725 We traveld to Groten 1 12 milds and 
there stayed by reson of foul wether 

6 day We travelad to dunstabel' 2 12 milds and thear Lay 

the night 

7 day we Lay stil by reason of foull wether 

8 day we mustared and went over the river to the house 

of John Talars about 3 milds 

9 day we marched up the river about 8 milds and then 

campt one of our men being taken verey sick for 
he could travel no farther His name was 
Thomas Simson and doctor Joseph Whetcomb 
that night set his f ut into a ketel of biling broth 
so that he could travel no ferther 

10 day was foul wether & we sent 2 men into dunstabel* 

with the sik and lam men and they returned 
that night to us again 

11 day we traveled about 13 milds & then Campt, about 

3 milds above Amuskeag falls. 4 

12 day we traveled 11 milds and then Campt at the mouth 

of Penekoock river 5 

13 day we traveled 7 milds and then Campt at the irish 

fort in Penekook Entrevals, 6 that day it rayend 
very hard all day 

14 day we traveld 10 milds and them crost Meremock 

River above the mouth of Contockock river and 
then Campt 

15 day we traveld 8 milds north west from Contockock to 

a litel streame that runs into Meremock River 
about 3 milds west ward from Meremock and 
then Campt and sent out skouts. 

16 day we travelled 12 milds and Cam to a pond which 

was very long and we turned to the East sid of 


it and then Campt and then sent out skouts 
That day we lay about 3 milds westward of the 
mouth of the Winepisseocket 

17 day it raynd very hard the fore part of the day and a 

litel before night it cleared up and we sent 
skouts but found northeng. 

18 day we travelled 14 milds and that day we crost two 

great streams that runs into meremack 7 one of 
them comes out of a great pond 3 which some 
indens say it is 3 days journey round it the 
land is very full of great hils and mountains 
and very rockey abundance of sprus and hem- 
lock and fur and sum bech and maple and we 

19 day we traveld 1 1 milds and then campt at the louar 

End of pemichewaset 9 Lour Entervals and sent 
out skouts. 

20 day we lay stil by reson of foull wether and towards 

nit it Cleard up and we sent out skouts and 
found whear Cornel Tyng crost meremock. 10 

21 day we traveld 12 milds up pemichewashet River and 

found old sines of indens and we sent out skouts 
that night and found one new track and we 
lay that night by the river and made new camps. 
The Land that lys by this river is vere rich and 
good and the upland vere full of hils and moun- 
tains, very bad traveling 

22 day we traveld 2 milds and then sent out skouts over 

the river and up a stream 11 that runs into the 
river but found northen 

23 day we traveld up the river about 14 milds and that 

day we crost 3 stremes 12 that runs into the river 
this river corns sheafly from the northwest & 
then we campt. 

24 day we traveld 10 milds westward and that day we 

found old signs of indens 13 whear they had bin 

[ W 


this spring and in the winter, and sent out 
skouts but cold find now indens This day 
Samil moosman 14 actidently kild himself with 
his own gun. 

25 day it rained very hard and we lay stil that day til 

amost night it cleared up and we sent out skouts 
but found northen 

26 day we traveld 18 milds and came upon the Conetecut 

river and one of our men was taken vere sik 
that night we campt by the river 

27 day we traveld down the river and found a bark 

can now which was of great sarvis to our sik 
man and to us; that day we travld about 18 
milds and then campt. 

28 day we travld 19 milds and then campt This river 

runs chiafly upon a south westerly pint this 
day we crost sevral litel streams that run into 
the Conetecut river. 

29 day we traveld 20 milds and then campt 

30 day we travld 17 milds and crost one litel river 15 below 

the great falls 16 and then campt 
May the first we travld 24 milds and then came to a fort 
above northfield and there lay all night 

2 day we travld 10 milds and came to northfield and 

there stayd that night 

3 day we lay still it Lookt very likly ferr foul wether 

and we lay thare that night 

4 day we set out for Lancaster a cros the woods and 

travld about 12 mild and then campt. 

5 day we traveld 1 5 milds and then campt 

6 day we travld 14 milds and comm to Lancaster about 

4 a clock this day it rained very hard all day 

(Endorsed but not signed by him) 

Captain White's Journal May 1725. 



Upon his last scout the following incident occurred 
and the following communication was sent to the governor, 
which is recorded in,the Early Records of Lancaster Mass.: 

Dunstable July the 10: 1725. 
May it Please your Honr: 

Old Christian 17 Being this morning Being Taken with a violent 
Bleeding Caused our Companyes to stop and within a few hours he died 
& the other mohaucks are not willing to Leave him before he is Buried & 
our d«sire is to march over Merrimack River and There to Take a True 
List of our Mens Names, & shall march as Quick as Possible. 
Who Remain Still your Honours at Command 


(Mass. Archives, Vol. 52, p. 222.) 

Captain White made another scout early in the fall 
but kept no journal. 


1 From Lancaster, Mass. 

2 Now Tyngsboro, 

3 Nashua. 

4 Nearly all of the Scout Journals speak of camping in this vicinity 
and of clear, cool springs of water, which were doubtless the attraction. 

5 Suncook River. 

6 The site of the future city of Concord. The word Penacook, says 
J. B. Walker in his "Genesis of a New England Plantation," has been 
variously spelled at different times and by different parties. In the Pro- 
prietary Records, Penny Cook; elsewhere as Pennycook, Pennicook, Peni- 
cook, Penecook, Pennecook, and in various other ways. It should be 
remembered that Penney Cook, now Concord, N. H., has borne, at differ- 
ent times, three different names. From 1725, when it was first chartered 
by the General Court of Massachusetts Bay it was called the Plantation of 
Penny Cook. It bore that name until 1733, when, by the same body, it 
was incorporated as the Town of Rum ford. Thence, on to 1742, it was 
known as the Town, and from this time to 1749 as the District of Rum- 
ford. From July 12, 1749, when the District Act expired, on to 1765, a 
period of nearly sixteen years, it had no organized existence whatever, 
the Provincial Assembly refusing to accord it any. On the 25th of May, 
1765, it was incorporated anew by the New Hamphire Assembly as the 



Parish of Concord, in the town of Bow. It continued to be a parish until 
January 2, 1784, when by an act of state legislature it was "Invested with 
all the powers and enfranchised with all the rights, privileges and immu- 
nities which any town in the state holds and enjoys, to hold to said inhab- 
itants and their successors forever." 

7 Smith and Newfound Rivers. 

8 Newfound Pond. 

9 Name of the country, not of the river. This was the second time 
this name appeared in early accounts. 

10 Now called the Pemigiwasset River. Colonel Tyng had gone that 
way on a scout a few days before, April 16. 

11 Since named Stinson Brook. 

12 Hall, South Branch and Pond Brooks. 

13 William Little, the historian of Warren, thinks it must have been 
near the Wentworth line, but in the former town. 

14 In Warren, says Little. 

15 Cold River. 

16 Bellows Falls! 

17 Christian was a Mohawk who acted as one of three Indian guides 
for Harmon and Moulton in their expedition against the French Mission at 
Norridgewock, which resulted in the complete rout of the Canibas tribe 
and the death of Father Rasle. Christian was the one to fire the build- 
ings against the orders of the whites. 

Qlfyt fl£f)tp=poor=totU 

By George Waldo Browne 

The dying sun god's arrows shoot athwart the skies, 
While in the peaceful vale his lingering legion lies 

Upon the shield of night; 
And forth the stalwart sentinels of twilight steal 
Across the raven-haunted pool of Irisfiel, 

Whence fled the soul of Light. 

Now silent rest the toiling massss; every note 
Is hushed of songsters, save the plaint of one sweet throat- 
Whip-poor-will! Whip-poor-will! 
Which solemn strain awakes the even's mystic spell, 
While bearing to our sadden'd hearts the day's farewell — 
Whip-poor-will! W r hip.poor-will! 


historic ^eebs of M^V Hanbs 


The Flag of Fort George 

By Victor St. Clair 

URING the long, sanguinary struggle for American 
Independence, a dark-walled, wooden building, 
frowning with its serried battlements, stood at the 
foot of what has since become New York's far-famed 
Broadway. This forbidding structure had been named 
Fort George by the British commander, in honor of his 
king, and from a tall staff surmounting it flaunted, all 
through the war, the flag of old England. 

This same flag, which the patriots of America had 
fought so long to trample under foot, still flapped its grimy 
folds defiantly in the breeze of this land of freedom, even 
after the humbled Cornwallis had yielded his sword to 
Washington on the field of Yorktown. The reason for 
this aggravating act was the fact that the British still held 
possession of New York. 

King George had been fairly whipped, and the day 
was eagerly looked forward to when the last of his red- 
coated hosts should turn their backs on the shores of the 
new republic. Perhaps these self-same followers of the 
misguided king were equally glad to do this, for they had 
not found themselves engaged in the child's play they had 
anticipated at the outset, and Sir Guy Carleton, in command 
of that division of the English forces, set an early day for 
the evacuation of New York. 

This important event fell upon November 25, and no 
sooner had the British prepared to embark on their home- 
ward voyage than the streets were thronged with the over- 
joyed victors. The eyes of old men kindled with the fires 



of bygone years as they saw their hated foes beating a 
retreat, and boys shouted themselves hoarse in the over- 
flowing of their new-found happiness. In the midst of 
this unbounded rejoicing, however, a silence suddenly fell 
upon the jostling throng, and jeers and cries of derision 
followed the merry applause of a moment before. The 
cause of this sudden change was quickly apparent to those 
who looked above their heads. The flag of their conquered 
enemies still waved over the city. 

As the last act of indignity he could thrust upon the 
despised colonists, the British commander had caused the 
flag of England to be nailed to the staff of Fort George. 
To make sure that it could not be removed by some daring 
patriot, he had given orders that every cleat should be torn 
from its place and that the pole should be greased from 
foot to top. In this manner he fondly believed that the 
last object to fade from his sight as he sailed away would 
be the ensign of his defeated king mocking the triumph of 
his conquerors. 

While he was gloating over his ignoble act and fancy- 
ing the wrath of those whom he had thus insulted, the 
patriotic spectators were trying to devise some way to tear 
the hated emblem down. Of course a few blows of an axe 
would have sent the staff, with its insignia of oppression, 
reeling to the earth. But it was more desirous that the 
flag should be supplanted by their own, waving proudly 
over the departure of the foe. 

There were brave hearts present — hearts that had been 
tried on many a sanguinary battlefield — and there were 
cunning brains that had outwitted the crafty enemy many 
times, but not one was found to suggest a way to lower the 
banner nailed aloft so securely, until a voice with boyish 
sharpness in it, exclaimed: 

"If they'd let me climb that pole, I'd pull the old thing 
down in a jiffy." 

The words were intended for a young companion, but 
among those who overheard them was an American officer, 


who turned sharply upon the youthful speaker. He saw a 
clean, bright-looking boy of about fourteen, with a well- 
knit frame and strong limbs. 

"Do you believe you can climb that flagstaff and tear 
away that flag, young man?" asked the officer. 

"I do, sir," replied the undaunted boy. "At least I 
am willing to try." 

•'If you should be able to do it, it would be the proud- 
est act of your life. Will you go with Sergeant Robinson 
here, and tell General Knox what you have just said?" 

The sergeant mentioned quickly stepped forward at 
the command of his superior, and the young patriot 
accompanied him to the headquarters of General Knox 
who, in his perplexty over the trying situation, failed to 
look up until the sergeant, saluting, said: 

"If you please, General, here is a boy who thinks he 
can climb that pole and pull down the English flag." 

In a moment the general's kindly face lighted and, as 
he surveyed the youthful figure before him, he asked: 

"What is your name, my boy?" 

"Johnny Van Arsdale, sir." 

"An agile-looking boy, by my faith! So you think you 
can climb that staff, Johnny?" 

"I would like to try, sir. I can but fail." 

"You have the right stuff in you, and I believe you are 
capable of doing it. Let him have a trial, Sergeant." 

Then without further delay the proud Johnny was 
marched away to the scene at the parade ground of Fort 
George, and asked if there was any thing he wanted to 
assist him in carrying out his design. 

"Some sand, if you please, sir; also the cleats, and a 
hammer and some nails." 

These being quickly forthcoming, Johnny Van Arsdale 
began his difficult and perilous feat, watched by the anxious, 
admiring crowd that cheered him at every foot of advance 
he made. Sprinkling the sand over the slippery staff, and 
nailing the cleats, one after another, to their old places, he 



slowly ascended foot by foot, higher and higher, each step 
announced by the shouts of the spectators. Being careful 
not to look down upon the sea of upturned faces, lest he 
should become dizzy and lose his precarious hold, the daring 
climber crept steadily upward until he presented but a 
black speck to those below. Now every one began to 
tremble, knowing that a single false movement must prove 
fatal to him. Then one and all held their breaths, as they 
saw that he had at last reached the flag. 

"See, he is making it shake!" cried one, "but he is not 
strong enough to tear it off." 

Again silence fell upon the scene, and eyes grew dim 
with watching as they beheld the heroic boy tearing the 
hated emblem from its fastenings and wrapping it around 
his body. Then the silence was broken by a loud cheer as 
they saw him beginning to .descend, the flag, now but a 
tattered ensign, flapping about his head. 

The cheering grew louder and louder as Johnny 
descended until, as he touched the ground, he found him- 
self, surrounded by the wildly shouting and overjoyed 

"Tell the general I have kept my word," said the boy 
patriot, as he handed over the English flag to an officer. 

The excited men were not content to leave him alone 
in his glory. They lifted him upon their shoulders, and in 
that way he was borne into the presence of General Knox, 
who publicly thanked him for his gallant act. An order 
was issued to have the Stars and Stripes of the newly 
fledged republic immediately unfurled above Fort George, 
that the departing British might know that the banner 
raised by their hands had gone down with them. 

T am sure that no truer patriot than Johnny Van 
Arsdale gazed upon the glad spectacle of the new flag 
rising proudly on the breeze that was wafting its enemy 
away from the realm. His countenance bubbled over with 
joy, and he clapped his hands that were still bleeding from 
the wounds made in tearing the other ensign down, as he 

"How much prettier; long may it wave!" 

As long as there are boy patriots like Johnny Van 
Arsdale, so long will it wave o'er "The land of the free and 
the home of the brave." 

,V e 9386a 

A Plain Tale of Plain People, Some of Whom You May Have 
Known, All of Whom Lived a Third of a Century Ago 

By George Waldo Browne 

[Copyright, 1906, by the Author] 
What shadows we are and what shadows we pursue! — Burke. 

CHAPTER XVII.— (Continued,) 

At last it was announced that the selectmen had 
appointed a hearing, when it was expected the town claim- 
ants would present formally their case. The date selected 
was Wednesday following the husking bee at Captain Eb's. 
This would be an occasion when Free Newbegin must act 
openly if at all. Sheriff Jenness, as anxious as he to win, 
immediately called upon him to urge the necessity of 
having some great legal light to plead his cause. 

"There are Ketchum & Holdfast," he declared. " Every- 
body about here knows 'em, and everybody knows there ain't 
their equal for downright bluster and beat in the country'. 
Git 'em! They'll charge like blue blazes, like enough — want a 
good retainer down — but it'll pay to git 'em. The town always 
has Baxter Wilcox. He's like a streak o' lightnin', an' you 
hev got to have somebody spry and slippery to git out'n 
his reach. For climbin' you want Ketchum, and for bull- 
dog grit you want Holdfast." 

"Never fear but I'll have a man who can handle any 
one they can get," replied Newbegin. "I have one in mind 
now. I am not in this to throw away a good chance, for 
Wednesday's hearing is my day of victory." 

"That's the talk," replied Jenness, highly elated, and 
he went home feeling that this town claimant was "nobody's 
fool," to use his favorite expression. 



That was Saturday evening, and merely saying to his 
associate that he should look after a lawyer the first of the 
week, Free Newbegin said nothing further in regard to the 
matter rapidly coming to a crisis. 

Monday morning Free Newbegin bade good-bye to his 
friend, and went away without saying whither he was going 
or when he should return. Leonard Quiver refrained from 
asking these questions, as he understood the uncertainty of 
the other's errand only too well. 

The interval until Wednesday morning passed some- 
what tediously to the claimant remaining behind inactive. 
He could not help having his misgivings as to the outcome. 
On Tuesday he went to the village. While he did not own 
this fully to himself, he went in the hope of seeing Miss 
Newbegin. In this respect he was fortunate, for he met 
her on the way to her school. She greeted him with a 
smile, and stopped to exchange a few remarks. Without 
doubt that was the happiest three minutes Leonard Quiver 
had ever known in his checkered life, and he felt more than 
paid for his pains in coming. 

On Wednesday morning, the eventful day, Deacon 
Goodwill ordered the harness to be put on old Bet, and 
half an hour later he drove down the hill toward the village. 
He had inquired several times as to where Justin Bidwell 
had gone, but beyond that had said very little. The hear- 
ing was appointed to open at ten o'clock, and Leonard 
Quiver was in a fever of anxiety waiting and watching for 
his companion. Not until nearly half past nine did he give 
up hope of seeing his friend here before he started for the 
village, hoping and expecting to find him there. This did 
not prevent him from keeping a constant lookout as he fol- 
lowed the road which had grown so familiar to him. But 
he saw no signs of him, and all too soon for his state of 
mind he reached the yard in front of the store and hall. 

A large crowd had gathered here, generally drawn into 
small groups, all discussing that topic which must have 
been uppermost in the mind of every one. Life Story, the 


sage of Sunset, as usual had collected about him a circle of 
rapt listeners, who were attentive to his description of a 
drawing he had spread out on the head of a flour barrel. 
Just apart from this little knot of people sat upon a nail 
keg the man with a jackknife, whittling away at a pine 
stick, the only unconcerned person present, chuckling ever 
and anon as some shaving of uncommon length rolled away 
from his blade, or it might be as he sent one with unerring 
precision toward an object he had selected as his target. 
Nobody noticed him, and he certainly appeared to notice 
no one. A short distance from the main body of specta- 
tors, big, fat, jolly Bige Little cracked his jokes, told his 
funny stories, and sold an occasional handkerchief or some 
Yankee notion. Farther removed than he stood the blind 
bard, his voice as he sang some sweet song and the notes 
of his violin falling softly, tenderly on the hubbub of voices. 
Nowhere could Leonard Quiver see Freeman Newbegin, 
though he realized the hour set for the meeting had come. 
What if he should fail to appear? 

Filled with a fear he could not escape, he started to go 
to the hall on the second floor. The spectators fell back to 
allow him to pass with ill-concealed grace, but he kept 
steadily ahead, looking to neither the right nor left. He 
found the hall already packed, but he looked again in vain 
for his friend. He held his breath with suppressed excite- 
ment as he listened to a remark of Deacon Goodwill to his 

"Et doesn't look reasonble to me et he'll come. He 
went from my house on Monday, an' ef ever 1 felt like 
shoutin' fer glory et was then. I've been told he left towm. 
I move we 'journ, 's th' hour 's 'rived, an' he's lost his case 
through default of app'intment." 

Squire Newbegin was seated at the head of the table, 
while Captain Reed was sitting close by him. As Deacon 
Goodwill finished speaking, Sheriff Jenness drew his tall, 
angular figure up exclaiming: 

"Never heard of sich a thing. Adjourn a court with- 


out a hearing! Of course — " his eye running over the 
assembly he suddenly discovered Leonard Quiver at the 
further end of the hall, when he added in a triumphant 

"There's one on 'em, an' I'll bet my boots t'other ain't 
fur off. Come here young man." 

As much as he disliked to do so, Leonard was about to 
obey, when a commotion on the part of some of the spec- 
tators saved him the ordeal. Above the confused sounds 
was now heard the rumbling of heavy wheels rolling down 
the road, and a general rush was made for the windows 
regardless of any attempt at order. Standing near a win- 
dow at the time, he had a good view of the sight outside, 
which was sending such a thrill of wonder through the 
inhabitants of Sunset, who were staring with wide-open 

The object which had set the gaze of the spectators 
staring, and loosened the tongues of gossip so they would 
not become silent for many days, was the handsomest 
equipage that was ever seen in Sunset. It consisted of a 
beautiful coach, glistening and sparkling in its new coat of 
varnish, drawn by a pair of coal-black horses, whose glossy 
coats vied with the glitter of the carriage and the gold- 
mountings on the harnesses. The high-spirited pair of 
horses were deftly handled by a colored coachman in livery 
in keeping with the rest, and who sat proudly erect on his 
high- seat, holding the reins firmly in one hand while he 
flourished a long whip with the other. He gave this whip 
a dextrous quid as he headed the flying steeds into the yard 
and caused to break forth a terrific report from the lash, 
which so frightened the nearest spectators that they beat a 
head long retreat, some falling over others in their efforts 
to get out of the way. Circling around the yard with 
unabated speed, the magnificent turnout was brought to a 
sunden standstill directly in front of the building. 

Directly the door of the coach was opened by a gloved 
hand, and then Freeman Newbegin, or Justin Bidwell as 


the bystanders knew him, stepped leisurely forth, dressed 
in his best suit, guiltless of dirt or wrinkle. He bowed 
politely to the encirling onlookers, and then turned to assist 
another man to alight. At sight of this second personage, 
jaws that had seemed transfixed abruptly moved, and an 
involuntary exclamation of surprise broke the intense 
silence of the scene. Even the man with the jackknife 
suspended his work for once and stared earnestly with the 

This new-comer, for he was a stranger to all, presented 
a most distinguished appearance, having a commanding 
figure, not less six feet and four or five inches in height, 
perfect in its physical outline, and clothed in a suit as fine 
and faultless as that of the town claimant. He stepped 
slowly down from the coach with utmost dignity, and 
stopped to draw a handkerchief and flick a tiny speck of 
sand from his coat sleeve. His large head, surmounted by 
a tall, silk hat, was rendered more striking by his heavy 
black hair, worn long, so as to fall about his shoulders in 
waving masses, while his impressive countenance was given 
a somewhat fierce expression by the coal-black mustache 
that drooped over a mouth of marked firmness. Black 
eyes flashed out from under long, overhanging lashes in a 
manner which caused the spectators to fall back so as not 
tc be in the way of this august visitor. Certainly never 
such an imposing person had honored Sunset with his 
presence, not even when General Andrew Jackson, the 
president of the country, had paid it a brief call. In the 
midst of the hushed stillness a squeaky voice was heard to 
exclaim in the outskirts of the crowd: 

"Jewhillikums! if he's got that man to shout for him 
th' taown's whupped in spite o' thunder an' lightnin'!" 

Without deigning to look to the right or left the pom- 
pous arrival followed his escort into the narrow hallway, 
which he completely filled with his stalwart figure. He 
climbed the stairs with slow, measured step, each move- 
ment told by a groan from the boards under his feet. Out- 


side the coachman maintained a stiff posture while he 
patiently watched over his restive horses. 

"He's comin' up!" whispered one of the spectators at 
the second-story windows, which was the signal for a gen- 
eral stampede for seats, so by the time the claimant and his 
huge companion had reached the hall everybody was seated. 
Justice Newbegin and his colleagues looked askance upon 
the scene, while Lawyer Wilcox, their counsel, leaned over 
and whispered something to the chairman of the select- 
men. This was the only movement noticed until Justin 
Bidwell had escorted his gigantic companion into the pres- 
ence of the expectant officers and, politely addressing the 
court, said in a low but distinct tone: 

"The Hon. Schuyler Frelinhyson, who is our counsel 
in this case." 

Every one about the table made low obeisance, which 
the new-comer acknowledged with a slight inclination of 
his ponderous head and a deep "ahem." which sounded like 
the note of a bass drum, and caused a nervous person sit- 
ting near to spring to his feet with an involuntary "oh!" 
upon his lips. The strange lawyer was then escorted to a 
seat, when silence reigned for what seemed a long time to 
the spectators. Finally the town claimant leaned over and 
whispered something to the sheriff, who nodded, and then 
the first made some remark to his associate, after which 
the big lawyer rose slowly to his feet, while the onlookers 
held, their breaths in anticipation of what was to come. 
Clearing his throat with a long-drawn "ahem," Mr. Frelin- 
hyson said in a slow, measured tone, which had a depth 
and volume in keeping with his massive form: 

"Your honor, we are ready to open the case." 

The audience trembled at the sound of his voice, and 
it was a positive relief when he sat down without making 
the expected speech. Even Squire Newbegin was seen to 
move uneasily, while he eyed the new-comer with a steady 
gaze. But the latter did not appear to notice that he was 
the target of every eye in the house. Many of those who 


had been outside the building when he came had followed 
into the hall, so it was completely filled with people. But 
personal comfort was a matter given slight attention on 
such an occasion. 

Squire Newbegin next arose to announce that the 
court was ready to hear the claim of the strangers, when • 
the spectators held their breaths at the thought of hearing 
Mr. Frelinhyson's speech. Every thought and every 
eye was turned upon this stalwart stranger, no one, as far 
as Freeland Newbegin could see, realizing the actual condi- 
tion of the battle. 

"No one recognizes me," he thought. "The squire 
plays his hand well but, by heavens, I will humble him 
before this day is done. I wonder — " 

The reflections of the claimant were abruptly checked 
by the entrance of the new-comer, who was none other 
than Mary Temple. Refusing a seat, she stood by the 
open window with an anxious, expectant look upon her 
countenance. With Squire Newbegin, she seemed to 
realize that he was an actor more potent than even the 
stalwart stranger, who had captured the interest of -the 
crowd. Intuitively her gaze wandered toward him until it 
met his. Chagrined that he should have thus allowed him- 
self to let this happen, he read in that swift glance the 
truth he would have fain concealed from her. A sudden 
pallor overspread her features, and though others were too 
deeply absorbed with different thoughts to notice her, he 
saw her fall back against the wall, and for a moment he 
feared she would sink to the floor. 

She quickly rallied and gained control over her actions. 
As if not daring to trust herself to look upon him, she 
turned her gaze in other directions, though every now and 
then it would come back to him. 

"I would give a hundred dollars if she had not come 
here," he thought. -'She unnerves me more than the 
squire. But the die is cast and I must win whoever 


While this little incident passed in half the time it 
has taken to describe it, another of quite as tender interest 
was occuying the thoughts of two others. These were 
Leonard Quiver and Natalie Newbegin, who was seated 
among the spectators, a close observer of the scene. More 
than once the gaze of this couple met in that swift 
exchange of thought that comes from the telegraphy of 
the mind. 

If the spectators expected that the big lawyer was to 
open the case of the claimant they were disappointed, for 
the man himself lost no time in addressing the court. It 
was already known that he was an excellent talker, but he 
soon surprised his listeners. Without any preliminary 
details he entered into the claim he represented, stating 
in few yet touching words the perplexing situation into 
which the town had been drawn by an unfortunate combi- 
nation of circumstances. 

"Bankruptcy stared it in the face," he said. "There 
was no hope for its citizens, for its honor, for even its life. 
Money was hard to get upon such conditions as it pre- 
sented, when a man — its savior indeed — stepped forward 
and advanced every dollar it asked for, taking in return a 
little slip of paper. Forty thousand dollars was a big sum, 
your honor; too big, as it proved, for the poor old town to 
pay. And to-day I present that claim and demand as an 
act of simple justice that it be paid without adding further 
burdens upon the good people. 

"Pray who are you, who comes forward with this 
chimerical claim, long since settled?" 

This was the opportunity the younger man had hoped 
for and, fixing his clear eyes upon the other he demanded 
in no uncertain terms: 

"Squire Newbegin, do you want me to tell? Shall I 
show to this crowd the truth, the proof of which I carry 
in my pocket? 

For once the older man hesitated, and the other knew 
he had gained his first point. 


"You are not Sylvanus Bidwell, who was the original 
holder of this note." 

'.'I have not risen from the grave to present the shadow 
of a claim, sir. But here are legal papers showing that I 
am the possessor of this claim beyond the shadow of a 
doubt," and he held in hand the paper in question. 

"Let me examine it," requested the squire, saying 
when he had given the document a critical scrutiny. "With- 
out the note it is valueless." 

"With it it is worth one hundred and fifteen thousand 
dollars," retorted the claimant defiantly, at the same time 
displaying in his right hand the long-lost note, yellowed 
with age and rustling like the dried paper it was as he 
turned it over. 

Naturally the interest of the observers had now left 
the stalwart lawyer, who had maintained a close scrutiny 
over the proceedings, nodding his big head occasionally as 
his client scored a good point, or clearing his throat with 
that deep resonant utterance which invariably brought the 
nervous man upon his feet with a sharp "Oh!" while others 
sank lower, if that were possible, into their seats, feeling a 
sort of sublime influence thrown over them. The produc- 
tion of the note seemed to be the signal for the town's 
lawyer to begin his cross-questioning, when Squire New- 
begin showed that he felt relieved. Every one knew that 
the battle between the great legal lights was now fairly on, 
and they could not help contrasting the rival twain, tme 
one so small and weazened, the other so mighty and awe- 
inspiring. What a learned man the giant must be. Clearly 
the town could not hope to cope successfully with him. 
The intensity of the feeling thrown over the spectators 
was illustrated by the growing uneasiness of a child in its 
mother's arms. 

"Hush, my darling! What has frightened you so?" 

"I don't know, mamma," faltered the little one, glancing 
timidly toward the great lawyer, "but I fink he mus' be 


At this juncture Lawyer Wilcox was seen to bring 
from under the table a ponderous volume, loose in its hog- 
skin binding and showing a large amount of thumbing and 
handling, as well as the earmarks of many years of exist- 
ence. Opening this ancient book, nothing less than the 
records of the town for a long period, where he had placed 
a foot rule for a bookmark, the lawyer fixed his small, 
quizzical eyes upon the town claimant, saying in his thin 
yet penetrating voice: 

"I suppose you are aware, young man, that the mere 
fact of your having that note is not prima facie evidence 
that this indebtedness is not paid." 

"I am aware, your honor, that possession is nine points 
in law," was the quick retort, followed by an approving nod 
from his lawyer and an "Ahem!" that sent a thrill akin to 
terror over the crowd. "You cannot produce a word to 
show that it was ever paid." 

"Shall I read the records bearing upon the matter, 

"All that the patience of his honor is willing to 

Then the lawyer read in his thin, nasal voice the vote 
of the town to raise by direct taxation the money to meet 
its obligation, a ring of triumph in his tone as he finally 
closed the volume with a slam which brought from the book 
a cloud of dust that choked him so he had a violent fit fo 

"Having found so much will you kindly read us when 
and how this note was paid." 

"The treasurer's account would show that, sir." 

"Very true it would, if paid. Does it show the fact?" 

"I haven't his report here." 

"Wouldn't you have had it here if there had been a 
hint to show that this note had been paid?" 

"John Temple died suddenly and his report was never 
fully made up." 

Don't you think Mr. Temple was a man of such busi- 


ness capacity as to have caused him to report this fact if it 
were so?" 

."Squire Newbegin collected the money, and he knows 
it was paid over by him to John Temple." 

"Very well. Suppose we get at the beginning by let- 
ting Mr. Newbegin produce the evidence that he ever 
paid this money over to John Temple." 

"Squire Newbegin is not on trial," protested Lawyer 
Wilcox, rallying to the rescue of his cause. 

•'My son paid that money to John Temple," replied 
the squire boldly, though his gaze was fixed upon the dis- 
tant wall of the stuffy court room. 

"So you sent the money by your son?" demanded the 
claimant. "Did he bring you back any receipt to show that 
he had paid this money over the town treasurer?" 

"I object," interrupted Mr. Wilcox. 

"If I am to be placed under this fire of questions," 
retorted the squire, "I wish you would take my place, Cap- 
tain Reed." 

Not without considerable trepidation did the chairman 
of the board of selectmen take the responsible position 
of judge, and before he recovered his self-possession Squire 
Newbegin answered the question propounded him by the 

"My son never came back, sir, and soon after he died." 

"Have you proof of this?" 

The claimant realized that he was on dangerous 
ground, but he seemed resolved to press the other to the 
wall. Mr. Wilcox again came to the rescue of his client. 

"The question is out of order. We are not trying 
Squire Newbegin's son." 

"I callate thet's so," declared the chairman. 

"If it please your honor" said the squire in his delib- 
erate voice, which reached to the farthest part of the room. 
"I would like to ask this audacious stranger one question." 

So intense was the silence which had now fallen on 
the scene that the light pit-a-pat of a cat coming cantering 


up the stairs was plainly heard in every section of the 
building. The squire had barely made his demand, when 
the big lawyer moved his right foot and cleared his throat 
with one of his sonorous "ahems," which not only brought 
the nervous man into the air with a piercing "Oh!" but so 
terrified the bewhiskered Thomas Feline that he retreated 
down the stairs with flying feet and was seen no more. 
Then Mr. Frelinhyson made his longest speech: 

"Your honor, I object!" 

Captain Eb more than any one else felt the unfavor- 
able influence of the unknown lawyer, and he considered that 
it would be the wiser part for the town to effect some sort 
of a compromise before this giant attorney should be given 
the opportunity to pour the vials of his legal lore upon the 
spectators. Thus, as Mr. Frelinhyson settled back into 
the trembling chair which groaned under his weight, the 
chairman of the selectmen said to their attorney, in a tone 
intended to be a whisper but audible to those around: 

"Tiy an' settle with 'em, Squire Wilcox. It'll be 
better to save a leetle to th' town 'n to lose all. Half a 
loaf is better 'n none." 

At this speech, which the big lawyer must have heard, 
he frowned upon the chairman of the selectmen, which so 
startled the latter that he gave a short gasp, and in turning 
around upon the edge of the chair on which he was sitting 
he lost his balance and fell to the floor. The real cause 
of this mishap not being understood by the spectators, an 
alarm was quickly given and the report that Captain Eb 
had fallen in a fit rapidly spread. 

In a moment a general rush to the spot was started, 
which was instantly checked by a wave from the hand of 
the big lawyer. Squire Newbegin announced that Captain 
Reed was not injured, while the chairman rose to his feet, 
looking around in a sheepish manner, as if he had done 
something he was ashamed of. The truth was, while his 
fall had not harmed him, he was in no spirit to carry on 
this legal warfare. 


Leonard Quiver, who was sitting near the claimant 
without having an opportunity to speak to him, saw his 
lips part with a smile of derision, and more than ever he 
felt that the whole affair was a bewildering farce. Know- 
ing his friend as he did he felt that there was no outcome 
too strange not to be expected, while this stranger he had 
brought in was a mystery. The latter was again clearing 
his throat, which seemed to call for frequent attention, and 
the commotion among the spectators was instantly suc- 
ceeded by a calmness born of fear rather than of peace. 

Squire Newbegin improved this opportunity to say to 
the court: 

"Your honor, I have a question to ask." 

"I callate it's in order, Squire," declared the chairman 
in a husky voice. In a moment the big lawyer was on his 
feet and, striking the table with one of his ponderous fists 
a blow that sent the numerous articles upon it flying in 
every direction, he thundered; 

"Your honor, I object!" 

Squire Newbegin's face turned white, and the hand 
he raised to point toward the chairman of the selectmen 
trembled. Lawyer Wilcox leaped to his feet, crying: 

"There can be no objection until the question has been 
stated. My client has the right to proceed." 

"I object!" roared the Honorable Frelinhyson in no 
unmistakable terms. The silence of the onlookers was 
now intense, all feeling that a crisis was at hand. It came 
in a most unexpected way, when Captain Reed exclaimed 

"This court stands adjourned." 

(Begun in the July, 1906, number; to be continued) 

CJje alitor'* t^inbotu 


A garrison or stockade built by the pioneers during 
the Indian troubles, as seen by our illustration, consisted 
of four stout walls built of hewn logs, and inclosing an 
area of several square rods. These walls were raised to a 
height equal to a common house, and then fitted into 
grooves of large posts standing in each corner so as to be 
both tight and strong. Usually boxes were built at the 
corners where sentinels were stationed at critical times. 
Sometimes a garrison would be built around a single house, 
and often as many small houses would be built inside as 
there were families seeking safety here. During the 
periods when these garrisons were occupied, the scattered 
homes of the pioneers were all deserted and their furniture 
moved to these places of refuge. 

During the day the men would leave in companies, 
each man carrying his gun, and two or more acting all of 
the time as guards. In case any indications of the Indians 
were discovered, an alarm gun would be discharged, quickly 
answered by the report of a firearm at every garrison. Pena- 
cook had as many as seven of these garrisons at one time, 
notably in 1746. Upon the Sabbath the men all marched 
to the meeting house, with their families beside them, 
carrying their weapons ready for instant use while a scout 
both preceded and followed the procession. At the church, 
which was also built of logs and of the most primitive 
style, the men stacked their guns around a post in the 
center, while the good parson prayed and preached with 
his gun standing beside him. 


48 THE editor's window 

With the advent of the garrison we find an altered 
condition among the colonists. They were no longer living 
with neighborly friendliness with the Indians, but the latter 
were on the warpath and the whites flocked together to 
find mutual protection in union. 

3iofm acre$ of ©unstable 

Mr. Ezra S. Stearns furnishes us with the following 

John Acres, whose name is found in Fox's Dunstable, 
was a former resident of Boston and vicinity. He is found 
in Boston records 1 664-1 669. He was a temporary resi- 
dent of Muddy River, Brookline, and on the tax list of 
that town for the year 1674 the name of John Acres is fol- 
lowed by the word "Gone." The name of his wife was 
Desire the Truth. She was admitted to full communion in 
Roxbury church. He removed to Dunstable in 1680 and 
in 1682 he was appointed in town meeting "to pound, 
yeuke and Ringe hogs." The record of birth of three 
children is found in Boston, the baptism of three in Rox- 
bury and the birth of two in Dunstable as follows: 

Elizabeth, born in Boston May 18, 1664; Desire the 
Truth, born 1 , Boston March 9, 1666; Elizabeth, born in 
Boston November 24, 1668; Deborah, baptized in Roxbury 
February 26, 1670; John, baptized in Roxbury August 10, 
1673; William, baptized in Roxbury May 29, 1679; Mary, 
born in Dunstable May 26, 1682; Joanna, born in Dun- 
stable January 10, 1685. 

a Correction 

Our contributor, Col. Lucien Thompson, in comment- 
ing upon Mr. David Crafts' article in the June Granite 
State Magazine upon "General Sullivan and His Nearest 
Officers," says: 


M4: mk'^k: A 

S "i\f 


i I if;; iffifelpa^i^ I a 

?1 ' fMII 

8 $8v^ 


f '"■; -,> « Till .ir^«!i^' 

the editor's window 49 

It is generally agreed that Gen. John Sullivan was 
bom in Somersworth, N. H., February 17, 1740. Somers- 
worth was set off from Dover as a parish December 19, 
1729, but not entirely separated and incorporated as a town 
until April 22, 1754. General Sullivan was president of 
the state of New Hampshire in 1786, 1787, 1789, but was 
not at any time president of the senate. 

He was chosen representative from Durham March 
28, 1785, and was elected speaker of the house. He was 
chosen a member of the council but declined, probably 
preferring the office of speaker to this position. He was 
again elected speaker June 7, 1786, and resigned June 9, 
having been declared president of the state. 

Amory in his "Life of John Sullivan," page 234, states 
that in 1788 "Sullivan was again chosen speaker of the 
house, having been returned from Durham. But for 
reasons not assigned, and which can only be conjectured, 
he declined that position, considered the second in the state." 

The picture accompanying "The Grave of a Revolu- 
tionary Hero" was taken several years ago, and is given to 
show more clearly than recent ones do the central object 
of the article. Since then a curbing has been placed 
around the lot and a monument bearing the names of other 
members of the family makes more conspicuous the hal- 
lowed retreat made famous as the sleeping place of New 
Hampshire's most noted military hero. 

* m 

* * 

J^otes ant) <£5ueritg 

12. Is there an institution of learning consecrated to 
the violet? 


The question of our correspondent can be answered 
in the affirmative by referring him to the Academie des 
•Teux, or Jeux Floraux, founded in Toulouse in the four- 

50 the editor's window 

teenth century, and raised to the dignity of an academy by 
Louis XIV. of France. It still maintains its ancient 
dignity and each year a golden violet is awarded for the 
best poem written during the year by one of its students. 
The violet has long been a favorite among lovers of 
flowers, and we find Shakespeare frequently alluding to it. 
Once he speaks of the green bank where 

"The oxlip and the nodding violet grow,'* 

Again he refers tenderly to 

"Violets dim, 
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes, 
Or Cytherea's breath." 

Coming with its delicate perfume when other flowers 

have little or no scent, these references of the poet are 

very apt. The pansy or heartsease is really a variety of 

the violet, and though possessing greater beauty is lacking 

in this other attraction. Ophelia completed her nosegay 

with this flower, saying, "There are pansies; that's for 


* * 

Utterarp Heabes 

A History of the United States and Its People. By Elroy 
McKendree Avery. In fifteen volumes. Vol. III. Embossed cloth, gilt 
top, 446 pages. Price, $6.25 net. The Burrows Brothers Company, 

Volume III of this great work fully maintains the dignity and value 
of the preceding issues. Viewed in whatever light this undertaking may 
be, from the wide and painstaking research made, the careful sifting and 
selection of its material, the never-failing fairness with which each subject 
is treated, the accuracy of its deductions, the clearness of its expression, the 
beauty of its illustrations, and the mechanical and artistic skill of the 
printer, it becomes a monumental work, a fitting and fulsome reward for 
the many years of patient toil by its gifted author. It seems a source of 
regret that so many inferior histories in many cases will, for one reason 
and another, be taken in place of this, which will become a standard history 
of our country. 

As was pointed out when the first volume came from the press, the 
system under which it was evolved has not been excelled in the prepara- 


tion of any history in America, While the bulk of the work naturally 
falls upon Mr. Avery and to him tha greatest glory is due, he has had the 
advice and assistance of the foremost specialists of the land. To a good 
score of them, eminent in every domain of historical research and knowl- 
edge, each page of the manuscript has been submitted in every stage of its 
peeparation. Original research of a quality and extent almost unknown 
in preceding works has been supplemented by the most searching investi- 
gation of the most familiar facts of history. The things that have passed 
unquestioned from one historian to another in the past have been run 
to earth; not by one specialist but by three or four. And when one 
man had passed upon a manuscript his investigations were, in turn, 
reviewed by his collegues. 

All these things which were so much in evidence in the first volume 
are just as much to the fore in the present one. Naturally they devoured 
days and months, but the reader will not consider the time ill spent, as it 
has so greatly added to the value of his purchase. 

More than this, the system of investigation brought to the notice of 
the publishers such a mass of valuable material which they felt must be 
used that they have increased the number of volumes from the twelve 
originally announced to fifteen. By the addition of all these extra pages 
every important event can be treated with the amplitude it deserves. 

It has been aptly said that the author's text bears the mark of consci. 
entuous study, and is set forth in a style of rare literary excellence. The 
book is readable. No one will wish to lay it down in the midst of a chap- 
ter, which is a test of merit in a book of history. Not a dull page has 
page has been found in the volume — scarce a page that did not awaken 

Orderly Book kept by Jeremiah Fogg, Adjutant Second New 
Hampshire Regiment, Siege of Boston, 1775-76, Copied with Notes by 
Capt. Albert Folsom, has been received from the office of the Exeter 

Among the numerous historical and genealogical articles which this 
old and valuable publication from time to time has preserved in its col- 
umns, this must take high rank. Too little has been left us of the records 
of that trying period, and Captain Folsom deserves the thanks of all 
history seekers for his painstaking work. It is an octavo volume of 85 

An Industrial Achievement, sent out by the Pope Manufactur- 
ing Company, Hartford, Conn., and descriptive of the wonderful growth 
and development of their factories, is in itself an achievement which 
reflects great credit upon the arts of printer and illustrator, as well as an 
exploitation of Pope products. 

Mister Bill. A Man. By Albert E. Lyons, Cloth, ismo., gilt 
to P» 3*9 pages, illustrated. Price, $1.50. Richard E. Badger, The Gorham 
Press, Boston. For sale in Manchester by Goodman. 



Perhaps the dedication expresses better than we can the purpose and 
result of this book: "Some men are strong — gentle in their strength; quick 
to forgive — slow to condemn; giving but asking nothing in return — doing 
because it is for them to do. The world is better that they have lived. 
To the memory of such a man, whose companionship was and ever will be 
a strength and inspiration, this book is dedicated." 

We suppose it is natural that the author, attempting to portray a 
"strong" character, should seek the western field. It is even possible that 
"strong" men are to be found only there. We doubt it. But that has 
nothing to do with the story in hand, though it might be made the subject 
for an essay. The hero is introduced with such masterful strokes as 
describe "The Test of the Metal." "High above the little town might 
have been discerned the solitary figure of a man outlined against the 
mountain side. Straight and silent he stood, gazing steadfastly off into 
the distance. ... As the child to the father was this little town — this 
thriving field of industry — to him who stood like a sentinel of the night, 
watching over its sleep. He had seen it grow with strong and sturdy 
strides from the infant to man's estate; he had seen it steadily acquiring 
the power that was to turn upon and dispute possession with him who 
gave it birth. The time had come. All his earlier efforts, his trials and 
triumphs, had been but the preparation for the final struggle that must 
now be fought to victory or defeat." 

Then follows the remarkable story of the wildly checkered history of 
a mine, rich in its stores of nature but made the plaything of capital and 
cunning, pitted against this solitary man, who sought empty-handed to 
save the wealth of his friends, the honor of his name. It was a royal 
battle that he made, described in graphic language. Of course there was 
a woman's heart and a woman's hand concerned in this mighty struggle. 
Wheneverwas there a conflict between the human passions worth mention- 
ing in which a woman did not act the more subtle yet leading part. This 
woman was worthy of her knight errant, who exclaims, as he places her 
hand in his while they stand peering hopefully into the future, "Ah, dear, 
it is all well lost if one but gains the love that is true." 

PiNEY Home. By George Selwyn Kimball. Cloth, i2mo., page 
ornaments, 359 pages. Price, $1.50. C. M. Clark Publishing Company, 
Boston. For sale in Manchester by Goodman. 

As its title indicates this is a story of a Maine home, told in the 
pleasant style of the author of "J.Gould Harmon," recently reviewed in 
these pages. The scenes portrayed are those of a simple life, with love 
for the guiding star. The story begins where the majority end, with a 
courtship followed by a happy marriage. The hopeful young couple move 
into their new home, away in the heart of the pine woods, strong in the 
faith to cope with the trials of their untried life. Delightful pictures are 
drawn of the days and years that follow: the healthful environments, the 
confiding companionship of the honest country folks that help to make 
the setting for this pleasant tale of homely life. 


x > T .yj - v g .j r' »l* ' .w**^-^. l »- ■■ ^??yynB» 



l * 


u — 
> ^ 

C .Z 



^fc.-^vUjLtt.;'. *&>•«. ^^JtoAh&d&i 

<®ur ftiber 

By John Greenleaf Whittier 

The following beautiful tribute was written for, and read at, a summer 
festival held at "The Laurels," on the banks of the Merrimack, in 1S7S. 

NCE more on yonder laurelled height 
The summer flowers have budded; 
Once more with summer's golden light 
The vales of home are flooded; 
And once more, by the grace of Him 

Of every good the Giver, 
We sing upon its wooded rim 
The praises of our river: 

Its pines above, its waves below, 

The west-wind down it blowing, 
As fair as when the young Brissot 

Beheld it seaward flowing, — 
And bore its memory o'er the deep, 

To soothe a martyr's sadness, 
And fresco, in his troubled sleep, 

His prison-walls with gladness. 

We know the world is rich with streams 

Renowned in ^ono d nd story, 
Whose music murmurs through our dreams 

Of human love and glory: 
We know that Arno's banks are fair. 

And Rhine has casled shadows, 
And, poet-tuned, the Doon and Ayr 

Go singing down their meadows. 

But while, unpictured and unsung 

By painter or by poet, 
Our river waits the tuneful tongue 

And cunning hand to show it, — 


We only know the fond skies lean 

Above it, warm with blessing, 
And the sweet soul of our Undine 

Awakes to our caressing. 

No fickle sun-god holds the flocks 

That graze its shores in keeping; 
No icy kiss of Dian mocks 

The youth beside it sleeping: 
Our Christian river loveth most 

The beautiful and human; 
The heathen streams of Naiads boast, 

But ours of man and woman. 

The miner in his cabin hears 

The ripple we are hearing; 
It whispers soft to homesick ears 

Around the settler's clearing: 
In Sacramento's vales of corn. 

Or Santee's bloom of cotton, 
Our river by its valley born 

Was never yet forgotten. 

But blue skies smile, and flowers bloom on, 

And rivers still keep flowing, — 
The dear God still his rain and sun 

On good and ill bestowing. 
His pine-trees whisper, "Trust and wait!" 

His flowers are prophesying 
That all we dread of change or fall 

His love is underlying. 

And thou, O Mountain-born! — no more 

,We ask the Wise AHotter 
Than for the firmness of thy shore, 

The calmness of thy water, 
The cheerful lights that overlay 

Thy rugged slopes with beauty, 
To match our spirits to our day 

And make a joy of duty. 

BppK^ps - ^T 

-~ 11. 



I ■■■.■•'.:■ 


" - - ■ • 

aSrantte ^tate jft3ag;a?me 

Vol. IV. AUGUST, 1907. No. 2. 

Uttcrarp Hs&octattons of tfje JtSer= 
rtmack Citoer 

By George Waldo Browne 

"Rich thy waves and gentle too, 
As Rome's proud Tiber ever knew; 
And thy fair current's placid swell 
Would flow in classic song as well. 
Yet on thy banks, so green and sweet, 
Where wood nymphs dance and naiads meet, 
E'en since creation's earliest dawn, 
No son of song was ever born; 
No muse's fairy feet e'er trod 
Thy modest margin's verdant sod; 
And 'mid Time's silent, feathery flight, 
Like some coy maiden, pure as light, 
Sequestered in some blest retreat, 
Far from the city and the great, 
Thy virgin waves the vales among 
Have flowed neglected and unsung." 

tlVERS are the poets of Nature, singing the songs 
of the landscape. The song of the Merrimack is 
a grand epic of industry, the story in rhythm of 
progress. From whence it babbles its baby lullabies in 
its mountain cradle to where it yields up its being to the 
ocean, it sings of constant changes, periods of unrest as it 
struggles with its rocky environments, days of peace where 
it lingers longingly in the quiet valleys of its meadows. 
In its varying moods it always speaks in unmistakable lan- 
guage of a restlessness and endeavor in keeping with 
human life. Its fortune and good will have been more 



closely interwoven with those of man than any other river 
in the world. 

While the grand old Father Nile for centuries unscored 
has listened with a patient ear to the story of its children, 
a tale of woe and happiness of that far-away dawn of civi- 
lization and the ending of the day; the sacred Ganges has 
often lingered lonely and lovingly to listen to the plaint of 
its benighted people; the storied Rhine repeated in its 
many tongues the proud boast of its years and its con- 
quests, the Merrimack carried in its heart the memory of 
older and greater monuments than these. It has in truth 
traced its own autobiography with invisible pencil in 
unmistakable characters upon tablets of stone that will 
outlast the printed pages of many races of men. 

The earliest literary association of the Merrimack is a 
voice coming up from the depths of dusky tradition. The 
poet was a dark-eyed, plaintive singer whose dreary refrain 
awoke the heart-throbs of the sympathetic current of the 
rolling river as no other messenger has. The daughter of 
some unwritten chieftain she traced upon the flexible tab- 
lets of memory the picturesque story of her race. 

To him who in the love of Nature holds 
Communion with her invisible forms, she speaks 
A various language; for his gayer hours, 
She has a voice of gladness and a smile 
And eloquence of beauty, and she glides 
Into his darker musings with a mild 
And healing sympathy, that steals away 
Their sharpness ere he is aware. 

From out of the misty background this pathetic singer 
created an heroic epic grander than Homer, whose stalwart 
figures belong to the most picturesque race that ever lived, 
Among them the stately Kenewa appears mustering his 
dusky legion to lead it forth to anticipated conquest only to 
be swallowed up by the hungry wilderness as was Varus 
and his army in the old Germanic forest. Then the valiant 
Winnemet rallied around him his gallant followers upon 
the Brave Lands in his desperate endeavor to stem the 
tide of that disastaous Waterloo that overtook his race. 



Now the magnanimous Passaconaway, reading in the signs 
of the times the destiny of his people, bade them to meet 
bravely a hopeless fate, while he launched his frail boat upon 

This swiftly flowing river, 
This silver gliding river, 
Whose springing willows shiver 
In the sunset as of old, 

and vanished from sight and story, the grandest figure 
among these Romans of the wilderness. This was, indeed, 
the Thessaly of olden New England, where 

Green-tufted, oak-shaded, by Amoskeag's Fall 
The twin Uncanoonucs rose stately and tall. 

If the dusky hosts that flitted across the misty pages 
left no Illiad to speak, of their dead heroes, of their unwrit- 
ten deeds, theirs is not all the loss; yours not all the gain. 

For them the woodland songster sang its matin vespers 
and with them it vanished; for them the bonny deer 
roamed the pine-clad hills, and with them it sped its eter- 
nal race; the sleepless eagle, that from its eirie crag 
watched their stealthy march against their foe, maintains 
no more its lonely vigil; the catamount, that alone dared 
to answer their triumphant warwhoop, is forever silent. 
The merry rivulet that tells its happy secrets to you told 
the same old story to them in a loftier strain; the deep 
forest, with its unnumbered arms, protecting them from 
the cold blasts of winter and the torrid rays of summer, 
found in the ring of your ax its knell of doom; the cataract, 
that awoke with its mighty drum-beat the solitude of their 
surroundings, greet you with rhythm subdued: the myriad 
of Nature's voices that stirred the impulses of their wild 
nature have no awakening chord for you. The song of the 
river you drown with the dreary monotone of the factory 
wheel, and the melody of the wildwood with the tumult of 
your busy marts. 

Leaving this period of aboriginal romance, when 

When the trees were chanting from an open book, 

we find the river a source of joy to all who follow its his- 
toric and charmed courses, 


With its head hid in the shadow 

Of mountains crowned with snow 
With its bosom in the meadow 

Where the apple orchards grow. 

The first written description was given by the early 
explorers, who were seeking in a land of romance, as was 
the aged De Leon seeking in the everglades of Florida for 
the Fountain of Youth, the solution of many delusions, 
and wrote of the Merrimack as a "faire large river, well 
replenished with many fruitful islands; the ayr thereof is 
pure and wholesome; the country pleasant, having some 
high hills, full of goodly forests and faire vallies and plaines 
fruitful in corn, chestnuts, walnuts and infintie sorts of 
other fruits; large rivers well stored with fish, and environed 
with goodly meadows full of timber trees." 

What lonely magnificence stretches around! 
Each sight how sublime; how awful each sound! 
All hushed and serene as a region of dreams, 
The mountains repose 'mid the roar of the streams. 

The historian of the river is beyond dispute the pains. 
taking Meader, who has traced its many features in their 
varying lineaments from "the mountain to the sea." In a 
volume of over three hundred pages he has described its 
charms and accomplishment in pleasant language. He 

"The existence of, the splendid system of waterfalls, 
such as this alone of all the streams in the land can boast, 
has cited around them mechanics, artisans and operatives 
of every degree of skill and ability, and the result is seen 
in the steady and successful operation of more than one 
hundred monster cotton and woolen mills, whose massive 
walls towering on the 'air line' toward the clouds, enclose 
gems of humanity as well as of intricate, delicate and 
almost intelligent machinery. . . . Anterior to the manu- 
facturing epoch .... the Merrimack river was the same 
lovely stream of bright and sparkling water and contained 
the same noble falls, and was surrounded with a population 
sturdy and indomitable, which sparse and devoted to the 
pleasant and profitable pursuits of peace as it was, yet 


contributed its full share to the independence, intellect and 
character of the nation. Looking still further back, to the 
aboriginal period, the Merrimack and the territory which 
it drains is replete with interest, different in kind to be 
sure, but equal and in some respects surpassing that which 
invests it now. . . . Though races of men may flourish for 
a season and disappear, others -more or less worthy assum- 
ing their places in turn, the Merrimack river and its grand 
surroundings can never be involved in these vicissitudes. 
The grand convocation of majestic mountains which sur- 
round its source are the fitting emblems of eternal dura- 
tion and nothing but such terrific convulsions of nature as 
would produce a universal chaos could move them from 
their firm bases or mar the unequalled natural beauty of 
their scenery ord estroy the wonderful features which give 
them world-wide fame. The Merrimack itself, enduring as 
the crystal hills which give it birth, will go on forever, 
leaping from the great mountains in sparkling cascades, 
meandering through long, shaded avenues of perennial 
forests, winding its tortuous course around the bases of 
eternal hills, a robust, rapid river. ... In another age new 
and improved monuments may be reared, still testifying to 
its service and its power, long after the chains which now 
bind it to the wheels of monster cotton mills are rusted and 
decayed and become relics of the past, or the antiquarian 
may rescue from the debris of its present glory vestiges of 
the history of its former, but fallen grandeur — 

"By thirty hills I hurry down, 
Or slip between the ridges, 
By twenty thorps, a little town, 
And half a hundred bridges.' " 

Notwithstanding the prophecy of the poet* whose 
lines introduce our subject, we find that the Merrimack has 
been the favorite, possibly, of more poets than any other 

•William M. Richardson, LL.D., was born iu Pelham. January 4, 1774. He graduated 
Irom Harvard College in 1797; was a member of congress, 1811-14; chief justice of the 
Supreme Court of this state, 1816-38. He died in Chester in March, 1838. It will be seen 
^at he lived before the majority of those from whom we quote had begun to sing.— Editor. 


river in America. Associated with its own are the songs 
of Whittier, Thoreau and Emerson, and a score of others 
worthy of remembrance. 

Mr. Robert Caverly* devoted an entire volume of 
eighty pages to an epic poem upon the river. While this 
effort of Mr. Caverly may never become a classic, it has 
many places of interest bordering closely upon merit. 
His heart was with his subject, which gladdens many a 
defect and enlivens that subject 

Whose praise we sing, 
.... Some grateful measure bring, 
Some note of landscape grand in dale and hill, 
Adorned with glittering lake, cascade or rill, 
With forest wild, with winding wave between 
The giant groves along the valley green. 

In speaking of the days of the primeval pioneers, he 
goes on to say in pleasant vein: 

His dripping oar 
Ripples the water never pressed before. 

Leading us quietly through the vale of the passing 
scenes, he declares: 

Thence this fair vale from mountain to the main 
In vernal grandeur buds to bloom again, 
And plenteous harvest with her golden ears 
Crowning the prudence of progressive years 
Adorns the field, and grace triumphant gives 
To honest toil. 

The poet quoted at the beginning continues his some- 
what graphic lines by describing in vivid language the wild 
tangle of savage warfare, where contending foes — 

This gentle flood 
Bedew with tears and wet with blood — 

and goes on to picture the deeds of brave men none the 
less true to honor and duty because 

•Robert Boody Caverly was born in Strafford, July 19, 1806. He graduated at the Har- 
rard Law School and practiced law six years in Limerick, Me., and then for many years in 
Lowell, Mass., where he died in 1898. He left several published works, all of which relate 
to the Merrimack and its associations. Besides the poem mentioned he was the author of a 
"History of the Indian Wars in New England," "Epics, Lyrics and Ballads'" "Eattles of the 
Bush," with other works.— Editor. 


No evergreen of glory waves 
Above the fallen warriors' graves 

♦ **#*♦ 

No deathless deed by hero done, 
No battle lost, no victory won, 
Here ever waked with praise or blame 
The loud uplifted trump of fame. 

It matters little if the nameless hero threads the dim 
aisles of the old forest a mere shadow upon the serolls of 
tradition, or if he comes and goes like a Caesar of departed 
greatness, very real yet a vision still. Amerind and Roman 
alike now march in twain across that other field of Mars, 
wnere the arrow and the sword have not been taken, and 
victor and vanquished meet upon a common plane. After 
all is it not quite as well to remain a living river, a fount of 
eternal inspiration, as a dead hero? 

Where bounteous spring profusely showers 

A wilderness of sweets and flower, — 

The stately oak of royal line, 

The spreading elm and towering pine, 

Here cast a purer, happier shade 

Than blood-stained laurels ever made. 

Another of its admirers* has caught the spirit of its 
answering voices and, while listening to the wild songs of 
"broken waters," makes this stirring apostrophe: 



Roll on, bright stream! 
And ever thus, from earliest time, thou'st leaped 
And played amid these caverned, sounding rocks, 
When the long summer's sun hath tamed thy power 
To gentleness; or, roused from thy long sleep, 
Hast cast thy wintry fetters off, and swept, 
In wild, tumultuous rage, along thy course, 
Flinging the white foam high from out thy path, 
And shaking to their very centre earth's 
Foundation stones. 

•Thomas Russell Crosby was born in Gilmanton, October 11, 1816. In 1841 he gradu- 
ated from both the academical and medical departments of Dartmouth College. He was 
professor in Norwich University from 1854 to 1864; in Milwaukee Medical College, from 
1864 to 1871; in New Hampshire Agricultural College, from 1870 to the time of his death in 
Hanover, March 1, 1892.— Editor- 


And in thine awful might, 
When terror rides thy wildly heaving wave 
Or in thy soft and gentle flow, when break 
The ripples on thy sandy shore, in sweet, 
Delicious music, as of fairy bells, 
How beautiful art thou! 

And, since that first 
Glad hour, when morning stars together sang, 
Each rising sun, with dewy eye, hath looked 
On thee. Each full-orbed moon hath smiled to see 
Herself thrown back in penciled loveliness, 
Mirrored a mimic disk of light, beneath 
Thy pure and limpid wave, or broken else 
Into a myriad crystal gems flung high, 
In sparkling jets or gilded spray, towards heaven. 

And long ere on thy shores the white man trod, 
And wove the magic chain of human will 
Around thy free and graceful flood, and tamed 
Its power to minister to human good, 
The Indian roamed along thy wooded banks, 
And listened to thy mighty voice with awe. 
He, too, untutored in the schoolman's lore, 
And conversant with Nature's works alone, 
More deep, true, reverent worship paid to thee 
Than does his fellow- man, who boasts a faith 
More pure, an aim more high, a nobler hope — 
Yet in his soul is filled with earth-born lusts. 

The Indian loved thee as a gift divine 

To him thou flow'dst from the blest land that smiled 

Behind the sunset hills — the Indian heaven, 

Where, on bright plains, eternal sunshine fell, 

And bathed in gold the hills, and dells, and woods, 

Of the blest hunting-grounds. With joy he drew 

The finny stores from out thy swarming depths, 

Or floated o'er thee in his light canoe, 

And blest the kindly hand that gave him thee, 

A never-failing good; a fount of life 

And blessing to his race. And thou to him 

Didst image forth the crystal stream that flows 

From "out the throne of God and of the Lamb," 

The Christian's "water of the life divine." 

Thy source was in the spirit-peopled clouds, 

And to his untaught fancy thou didst spring 

, #^"i^^:^.;.^._-.. ■- 



Fresh from Manitou's hands — the o'erfiowing hand 
From which all blessing comes, alike to him 
Whose teaching comes from rude, material things, 
Who worships 'neath the clear blue dome of heaven, 
As him who in a sculptured temple prays. 

And thou, bright river, in thy ceaseless flow, 

Hast mirrored many a passing scene would charm 

The painter's eye, would fire the poet's soul; 

For beauty of the wild, free wood and floods 

Is yet more beautiful when far removed 

From the loud din of toil, that e'er attends 

The civilizing march of Saxon blood. 

And poetry, unversed indeed, and rude, 

But full of soul-wrought, thrilling harmony, * 

Hath spoken in thy murmur or thy roar; 

And human hearts, through long, swift-gliding years, 

Have made the valley thou hast blessed their home, 

Where they have lived, and loved, and joyed, and hoped, 

Nay, passed through all that makes the sum of life, 

Of human life, in every clime and age. 

Along thy shaded banks, in grim array, 

Wild bands of "braves," as fearless and as true 

As ever sought a deadly foeman's blade, 

Or battled nobly in a country's cause, 

With step as silent as the grave, have sped, 

In lengthened files, to strfe, and blood, and death. 

In that sweet dell, where giant trees o'erhang 
Thy soft, encircling wave, the council fires 
Have blazed. There silent, stern, grave-visaged men 
Have sat the magic circle round, and smoked 
The calumet of peace; or youths, in wild 
Exciting dance, with battle songs and shouts, 
With flashing arms, and well-feigned, earnest strife, 
Have acted the sad mimicry of war. 

To yonder sheltered nook, where, still and calm, 
The chafed and wearied waters rest a while 
Behind a rocky point, on which the waves 
Break ever, with a music soft and sweet, 
And 'neath the shadows of tall, sighing pines, 
That, in the fircest noon, create a soft, 
Cool, cloistered light upon the sward beneath, 
The dusky brave, fierce now no more, stolen 


Oft at the twilight hour, and when the young 
New moon hath tipped with silver bough, and rock. 
And wave, to murmur into willing ears 
Love's witching story, told full oft, yet new 
As when 'twas whispered in fair Eden's bowers- 
Sweet Merrimack! For ages thus the stream 
Of human life ran on with thine, yet not 
As thine; for thou art as thou wast of old, 
When first the Indian chased along thy banks. 
But where is now the red man, true and brave? 

Alas! where once the child of nature trod, 

Unquestioned monarch of the land and wave, 

The many towered, busy city stands! 

Hills that threw back the warwhoop's fearful peal, 

When filled was this fair vale with sounds of strife. 

Now echo to the engine's shriller scream. 

As swift and strong it flies, with goodly freight 

Of life and merchandise! 

By thy fair stream 
The Indian roams no more. No more he snares 
The artful trout, or lordly salmon spears; 
No more his swift-winged arrow strikes the deer. 
Towards the setting sun, with faltering limb 
And glaring eye, he seeks a distant home, 
Where withering foot of white man ne'er can come. 

And thy wild water, Merrimack, is tamed, 

And bound in servile chains which mind has forged 

To bind the stubborn earth, the free-winged air, 

The heaving ocean, and the rushing stream, 

Th' obedient servants of a mightier will, 

E'en as a spirit caught in earth-born toils, 

As legends tell, and doomed to slave for him 

Who holds the strong, mysterious bond of power. 

And thou art now the wild, free stream no more, 

Playing all idly in thy channels old; 

Thy days of sportive beauty and romance 

Are gone. Yet, harnessed to thy daily toil, 

And all thy powers controlled by giant mind, 

And right directed, thou'rt a spirit still, 

And workest mightily for human good, 

Changing, in thine abundant alchemy, 

All baser things to gold. 

ftebolutionarp Pension declarations 

Strafford County, 1820- 1832 

On File at the Office of the Clerk of the Superior Court, 
but not indexed, in the Strafford County Court House, 
Dover, N. H. 

Compiled by Lucien Thompson 

£^j1 N THE spring of 1907, Mr. William Lincoln Palmer* 
^% of Cambridge, Mass., and Mr. Lucien Thompson* 
of Durham, N. H., while engaged in looking up the 
ancestry of an old Oyster River family, had occasion to con- 
sult the Court Records of Strafford County, New Hampshire. 
Through the courtesy of William W. Roberts, Esq., clerk 
of the Superior Court, we were allowed the privilege of 
looking over the old books back to 1773 when Strafford 
county was separated from Rockingham county. We also 
looked over some of the hundreds of packages of impor- 
tant papers relating to the various terms of the courts. 
These papers were not indexed at all. W T hile thus 
engaged we accidentally made a valuable find of a pack- 
age containing the "Revolutionary Pension Declarations 
of Revolutionary Soldiers" living in Strafford county 
between 1820 and 1832. No court official was aware 
of the existence of these papers. These declarations 
were made in the Court of Common Pleas or Superior 
Court for Strafford county, and contained a statement of 
their property and income, a declaration of their service in 
the Revolutionary W r ar, and the number and names of the 
pensioners' or applicants' families residing with them and 
their ages and capacities to contribute to their support. 

•Parties vyishing further information in regard to these Revolutionary soldiers may corre- 
spond with either of the above-named parties. 



The court attached their opinion of the value of the 
property, etc., and sent a certified copy to the Secretary 
of War. 

An abstract of the Revolutionary service of each one 
has been carefully prepared by Lucien Thompson, in some 
cases copying same in full, when quotation marks are used, 
otherwise only an abstract is given. Unless otherwise 
stated they all served in the New Hampshire line. In giv- 
ing names of those persons dependent on the applicant 
for support, etc., it should be kept in mind that the names 
of those children who did not live in his immediate family 
are not given. 

The schedule of property given in the declaration has 
not been copied, as in each case it was of small amount and 

In some cases the occupation given was "laborer," and 
in some cases the occupation was not given. The writer 
has given the occupation except in those cases where he is 
called "laborer." 

It is hoped that these Declarations will be of public 
interest, and that some persons in the other counties of 
this state, and other states, will hunt up the Revolutionary 
Pension Declarations of their counties and states and pub- 
ish them. 


Daniel Woodman (otherwise known as Daniel Martin) 
of Durham, formerly a slave in the Woodman family. 

To the Justices of the Court of Common Pleas now sitting 
at Dover within and for the County of Strafford and 
State of New Hampshire, on the first Tuesday of 
July, 1820: 

Dan Woodman, aged Seventy, resident in Durham in 
said County, comes into court and in pursuance of an act 
of Congress passed on the 1st day of May, 1820, brings 
with him, and in his proper person exhibits to said Court a 


Schedule by him subscribed, containing his whole Estate 
and Income — his necessary clothing and bedding excepted 
—as follows: Sundry small articles of old household furni- 
ture estimated at $9.83.- 




And the said Dan Woodman in pursuance as aforesaid 
produceth to said Court the following oath by him duly 
taken and subscribed: — Viz. 

I Dan Woodman do solemnly swear that I was a resident citizen of 
the United States on the iSth day of March 1S18, and that I have not, 
since that time, by gift, sale, or in any manner disposed of my property, 
or any part thereof, with intent so to diminish it, as to bring myself within 
the provisions of an Act of Congress, entitled "An Act to provide for cer- 
tain persons engaged in the land and naval service of the United States in 
the revolutionary war," passed the 18th of March 1S1S; and that I have 
not, nor has any person in trust for me, any property or securities, contracts 
or debts due to me, nor have I any other income than what is contained in 

the schedule hereunto annexed, and by me subscribed 



And the said Dan Woodman doth here in Court 
further declare on oath that he served in the revolutionary 
war as follows, viz.: 

He entered on the 24th June 1777 in Capt. Rowell's company in Colo 
Geo. Reids Regt. New Hampshire line as a private Soldier & continued in 
in Said Regiment three years next ensuing said enlistment when he was 
regularly discharged. 

That the date of his original declaration in order to obtain a pension 
is 19th Ap'l 1818 and the number of his pension certificate is 9617: — That 
his occupation is that of a labourer but am wholly unable to labour That 
the number and names of his family residing with him, and. their ages and 
capacities to contribute to their support, are as follows, viz. 

My wife Nancy aged Sixty four years & is unable to labour or support 
herself. Wherefore he prays the opinion of the said Court as to the 
value of the property contained in said schedule, and that the same, 
together with a copy of the premises be duly certified to the Secretary of 

Sworn and declared before the said Court 
the fourth day of July I820 


Attest A. Peirce, Clerk. 


State of New Hampshire Strafford ss. 

At a Court of Common Pleas holden at Dover within and for the 
county of Strafford and State of New Hampshire, on the 4th day of July 
1820 before Daniel M. Durell, Esquire, Chief Justice, and Valentine Smith 
and Samuel Quarles, Associate Justices of said Court. 

The aforesaid schedule and oath and the above declaration duly sub- 
scribed and sworn by the said Dan Woodman having been by him exhib- 
ited in person, and presented to the Court, and the same being seen and 
considered, it is the opinion of said Court that the value of the property 
contained in said Schedule is Nine dollars eighty three cents. Wherefore 
the Court order that a copy of the premises, together with the proceed- 
ings thereon be duly certified to the Secretary of War. 

Attest, A. Peirce, Clerk. 


Peter Akerman of Rochester, N. H.; aged 81; dated 
February 5, 1829; no family. Service: enlisted for one year 
in December; 1775, in Mass., in the company commanded 
by Captain Jonathan Went worth, Poor's Regiment; served 
until February, 1777; discharged at Morristown, New Jer- 
sey; wounded in the arm; he was then receiving an Invalid 
Pension of five dollars per month. 

Joseph Bean of Gilmanton, N. H.; farmer; aged 88; 
dated September 11, 1821; wife Hannah, aged about 52; 
no children living with him, or able to support him. Ser- 
vice: Enlisted on or about September 8, 1776, in Capt. 
Timothy Clement's Company, Col. Pierce Long's Regi- 
ment, served until September 8, 1777; discharged at Still- 
water, N. Y. 

Sergeant James Burnham of Somersworth, N. H.; 

carpenter; aged 74; dated February 9, 1829; wife, . 

Service: Enlisted spring of 1775 in Capt. Benj. Titcomb's 
Co., Poor's Regiment, for eight months; immediately re-en- 
listed for one year, same company and regiment; discharged 
about February 1, 1777 at Morristown, New Jersey; rank 
during the whole service Sergeant. Afterwards served as 
Ensign in the service at West Point for the term of three 
months in 1780. 


Henry Buzzell of Middleton, N. H.; farmer; aged 
65; dated February 5, 1825; son Jacob Buzzell. Sen-ice: 
Enlisted in 1775 for one year in Capt. John Brewster's Co.; 
Long's Regiment; discharged at Stillwater, N. Y., at expi- 
ration of term of enlistment. 

Major James Carr of Somersworth, N. H.; husband- 
man; age jy, dated February, 1821; wife 62, lived with his 
son. Service: enlisted in 1775 as Lieutenant; in 1776 pro- 
moted to Captain & before the close of War received a 
Major's Commission, and remained in the army until the 
close of the war. He was then receiving a pension. (Cer- 
tificate No 6974) under his original declaration of April 17, 

Joseph Daniels of Barrington, N. H.; aged 72; dated 
November 26, 1823; wife aged 82. Service: Enlisted in 
August, 1776, in Capt. John Brewster's company, Long's 
Regiment; discharged August, 1777, at expiration of term 
of enlistment. "And that I served previous to that time 
as stated in my former declaration." 

Daniel Davison of Guilford, deceased invalid pen- 
sioner of the Revolution, died July 4, 1832, leaving a 
widow Abigail. Affidavits dated August 15, 1832. He 
married Abigail Quimby March 18, 1822. Service not 
stated. (Application for widow's pension.) 

John Davis of New Durham, N. H.; aged 69; dated 
February 4, 1829; "Declaration in order to be restored to 
the pension list under the Act of March, 1823. Service : 
Enlisted as Marinor for one year, October 16, 1779 at 
Kittery in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, on board 
the ship Ranger commanded by Capt. Thomas Simpson, 
she being on the continental establishment, that he con- 
tinued to serve in the said vessel until she was captured, 
and did not get exchanged and return home till about the 
first of Sept. 1780 — that his name has been placed on the 


pension list and dropped therefrom on account of his prop- 
erty." (His property now reduced in amount, etc.) 

Benaiah Dore of Milton, N. H.; age 64. Service: 
Enlisted in September or October 1781, in the District of 
Maine, in Capt. Fuller's company, 4th Mass. Regiment, 
commanded by Col. Shepard; "that he marched to West 
Point in the State of New York, and continued at that 
station until the last of August or first of September 1783 
when being sick, he was discharged from the service 
at that place — that his name has been placed on the pen- 
sion list, and dropped therefrom on account of his 

Abraham Drake of New Hampton, N. H., deceased 
Pensioner of the Revolution. He married Nancy Smith, 
November, 181 5. Rev. Simon Dana, New Hampton, 
signed affidavit to that effect August 20, 1832. Mr. Drake 
died March 4, 1832. 

Moses Ferren of Eaton, N. H.; aged 65; dated Sep- 
tember 6, 1820; wife aged 53, son Norris aged 17, daugh- 
ter aged 15. Service: "Enlisted under Capt. Sherman, 
@ol. Baldwin's Regiment, Massachusetts line in 1775 for 
one year but before the time expired reenlisted for during 
the War & served under Capt. Robinson, Capt. Cherry & 
Capt Rowell in different Regiments and was honorably 
discharged at the close of the War. — he was at the retreat 
from Ticonderoga at the Capture of Gen'l Burgoyne— and 
with Gen'l Sullivan in the Indian Country — he was in the 
battle of Monmouth & at the Capture of Cornwallis." 

Under his original declaration of April 29, 181 8, he 
was receiving a pension (pension certificate no 9596). 

John Gage of Strafford County (probably of Somers- 
worth); carpenter; aged 76; dated February 16, 1826; wife 
mare than 70; children had all left him. Service: Enlisted 
at Somersworth for nine months in June, 1775, in Capt. 
Jonathan Went worth's Company, Col. Poor's Regiment; 


discharged in April, 1776. He had not previously applied 
for a pension. 

John Garlin of Wakefield, N. H.; farmer; aged 66; 
wife 52, four sons, Nathaniel 14, Franklin 12, Jeremiah 8, 
Josiah 6 and one daughter Hannah aged 10 years. Declar- 
ation dated February 16, 1827 Service: Enlisted for three 
years, May, 1777, in Capt. William Rowell's company, Sec- 
ond Regiment commanded by Col. Hale; discharged at 
Stillwater, N. Y., at expiration of term of service. His 
name has been placed on the pension list and dropped 
therefrom on account of his property. 

Capt. Benjamin Gilman, Esq., Tamworth, N. H. 

We the undersigned Selectmen of the Town of Tamworth in the 
County of Strafford and State of New Hampshire certify that we are, and 
for a long time have been, well acquainted with Benjamin Gilman Esquire 
of said Tamworth, an applicant for a Pension from the United States, 
that we are well acquaintud with his character — That he has for many 
years Represented the Town of Tamworth in the New Hampshire Legis- 
lature — that he has ever maintained a fair and unblemished character for 
truth and veracity and that the most unlimited confidence may be placed 
in his declarations and that we have frequently heard it remarked and it i« 
generally understood and believed in the neighborhood and Town where 
he lives, that he rendered services to his Country as a Soldier a part of the 
time during the Revolutionary war. 

Selectmen of Tamworth. for A. D. 1832. 
August 2d, A. D. 1832. 

Silvanus Hall of Tamworth, N. H.; Carpenter or 
Joiner; aged 64; wife aged 66; Declaration February 8, 
1821 and September 17, 1324. Service: Served one year 
in Capt. Bradford's company, Col. Bailey's Regiment, 
Mass. line 1776-iyjj; Also three years in Col. Bassett's 
Regiment, Mass. line "except what time I was detached 
for one of Gen'l Washington's life guard and received a 
discharge which has been worn out"; dated March 13, 1780. 


The last service was performed in the years 1777, 1778 and 

Ephraim Ham of Dover,* N. H.; aged 67; Declaration 
February 14, 1825. Service: Enlisted for three years 
April, 1777, Capt. Fred'k Bell's Company, Col. Hale's 
Regiment; discharged April 30th, 1780, at West Point, 
N. Y. That his name has been placed on the pension 
list, and dropped therefrom on account of his property 
which has been impaired. 

William Twombly (of Dover), in support of Ephraim 
Ham's Declaration, stated that he (Twombly) served in 
Revolutionary war from 1776 to spring of 1780, Second 
New Hampshire Regiment, and that Ephraim Ham served 
in same regiment with him Spring 1777 to Spring 1780, etc. 

Enoch Hayes of Tamworth, N, H., Affidavit as to his 
character for the past twenty years by his pastor, Samuel 
Hutchins of Tamworth, who added that he had "no doubt 
that he (Enoch Hayes) served in the United States Service 
as he has set forth in his declaration, etc., dated Aug. 23, 

Affidavit August 18, 1832, church committee, Select- 
men & Town Clerk stating Enoch Hayes had lived in Tam- 
worth "Above thirty years & has sustained an unblemished 
moral character during that period so far as we know and 
seen or heard." 

Lieut. Thomas Hayes of Gilmanton, N. H.; aged 
J2\ no family living with him, declaration September 11, 
1823. Service: Commissioned as Lieutenant in April, 
1780, Capt. Moses Leavitt's company, Col. Scammell's 
Regiment for nine months; served until the last of Jan- 

*Wentworth Genealogy, Vol. i, page 166. Ephraim Ham (5), born in 1760, lived on his 
father's homestead; he was a soldier in the Revolution, was selectman of Dover five years; 
married Hannah Kelley in 1785. He died in 1847. Son of Ephraim (4) and Lydia ;Ham.) 
Ham. (For Ham see "Ham Family," N. H. Hist, and Gen. Register, 1872.) McDuffee, 
in History of Rochester, Vol. I, page 70, gives the following in Col. Reid's Regiment (from 
Rochester) : '•Ephraim Ham Engaged April 10, 1777. Discharged May 1, 1780." 


uary, 1781; discharged at West Point, N. Y., at expiration 
of term of service. 

Nathaniel Hayford of Tamworth, N. H.; aged 68; 
wife 52; declaration September 4, 1823. Service: Enlisted 
for three years in the fall of 1777, Capt. Scott's company, 
Col. Henry Jackson's Regiment, Mass. line; discharged 
fall of 17S0 at the heights above Morristown, New Jersey, 
that his name has been placed on the pension list, and 
dropt therefrom on account of his property. 

John Holmes of Strafford, N. H.; aged 65; farmer; 
wife 40; daughter 7, "a domestic girl aged about seventeen 
years and a domestic boy aged about eleven years." 
Declaration dated February 4, 1829. Service: "Enlisted 
as a soldier in the Revolutionary army in March, 1781, as a 
private in Captain Fogg's company in the second New 
Hampshire Regiment commanded by Col. George Read on 
the Continental establishment, and continued under the 
immediate command of Capt. Fogg untill he was promoted 
and succeeded in the command by Capt. Frye — that he 
served at White plains, near New York in the campaign of 
1781 & in the autumn marched to Albany and Skenectady 
— that in the year 1782, he marched up the Mohawk river 
& remained on that frontier to protect the Inhabitants of 
that frontier from incursions of the Indians, & from 
thence was marched to Newburgh in the State of New 
York, where the Army took up its winter quarters — and at 
the conclusion of the Revolutionary war was discharged 
from the army, near West Point, on the 25th December, 

Israel Huckins of Barrington, N. H.; aged 60; wife 
60; Declaration September 8, 1820. Service: Enlisted for 
one year, August, 1776, Capt. John Brewster's company, 
Col. Long's Regiment; discharged at Stillwater, N. Y., in 
summer of 1777. 


Solomon Hutchins of Wakefield, N. H.; farmer; 
aged 69; wife 62; sons Solomon L. Hutchins (consumptive) 

26 years of age who has a wife and two children (4 yrs. 
and 1 yr. old), son Asa Hutchins 18 years of age deaf & 
dumb. Declaration February 6, 1829. Service: ''Enlisted 
for the term of one year in the month of October in the 
year 1777 at Portsmouth in the State of New Hampshire 
as a marriner on board the United States Sloop of War 
Ranger commanded by Captain John Paul Jones on the 
Continental establishment — that he continued to serve in 
said vessel until some time in the month of October, 1778, 
when he was discharged from said service in Portsmouth in 
the State of New Hampshire — that the said Solomon 
Hutchins acrain enlisted for the term of one year on the 

27 day of October 1779 at Portsmouth in the State of New 
Hampshire as a Marriner on board said United States 
Sloop of War Ranger commanded by Captain Thomas 
Simpson on the Continental Establishment — that he con- 
tinued to serve in said vessel until the 12th day of May 
A. D. 1780 when said vessel was captured by the Brittish 
at Charleston in the State of South Carolina — that he con- 
tinued in the service of the United States as a Marriner 
until he arrived in Portsmouth in the State of New Hamp- 
shire by land about the first of September A. D. 1780, 
when he was discharged at said Portsmouth." 

Amos Leavitt of New Hampton, N. H.; aged 62; 
wife Dorothy aged 55; daughter Polly aged 16. Declar- 
ation dated February 8, 1821. (He was receiving pension, 
Certificate No. 10882, under Original Declaration of April 
23, 181S.) Service: that he entered said service in Capt. 
Rowell's Company and Col. Hale's Reg. of the New 
Hampshire line sometime in the month of May "seventeen 
hundred and seventy seven and continued therein three 
years." (Additional Declaration September 10, 1827, en- 
listed in April or May, 1777, etc.) 

Jonathan Leavitt of Conway, N. H.; farmer; aged 
61; wife Elizabeth 47; children Mary 15, Betsey 13, Han- 


nah ii, Ebenezer 10, Jonathan 8, David 5, Harriet one 
year and five months. Declaration dated February 7, 1821. 
Service: "As a fifer in the company commanded by Capt. 
James Norris in the Regiment commanded by Colonel Poor 
in the line of the State of New Hampshire on the Conti- 
nental Establishment as is more particularly described in 
my original declaration" June 181S under which he was 
then receiving a pension (Certificate No. 14030). 

Joseph Marsh of Gilmanton, N. H.; blacksmith, 
aged 75; resided with his son. Service: Enlisted for eight 
months in Capt. Philip Tilton's Company, Col. Poor's Regi- 
ment; after expiration of eight months, re-enlisted for one 
year in Capt. James Norris' Company in the same regi- 
ment; at expiration of time re-enlisted "for six weeks in 
the same company that his first enlistment in the company 
of Capt. Philip Tilton was in May 1775 that he continued 
to serve in said Corps until February 1777 when he was 
discharged from the service in Exeter in the State of New 

John Marston. (Declaration missing.) 

I do certify that I am well acquainted with John Marston the signer 
of the accompanying declaration and I believe him to be a man of truth 
and has that reputation and I have no doubt as to the service performed 

as set forth in said declaration 

Strafford ss. Aug't 23d 1S32. 
\ Sworn to Before me 

Geo. F. Marston Jus. Peace. 
August 23d, 1832. 

Samuel Martin of Sandwich, N. H.; farmer; aged 65 
wife 52, children Solon 14, Caroline 9, Marcia 7. Declar- 
ation signed September 4, 1823. Service: Enlisted for one 
year on or about the middle of August, 1776, in Capt. 
Timothy Clements' company, Col. Long's Regiment; dis- 
charged in August 1777 at Stillwater, N. Y.— that his 
name has been placed on the pension list, and dropt there- 
from on account of his property. 


Simeon Mason, N. H.; farmer; aged 71; wife Abigail 
67, invalid daughter Elmira W. Mason aged 21 years. He 
mentions a son William. He affirmed the declaration 
February 6, 1829, implying that he was a Quaker. Ser- 
vice: Enlisted for three years on April 6, 1777, in Capt. 
James Norris' Company, Col. Hale's Regiment. Served 
until March 10, 1780, when he was discharged in Reading, 
Conn. — that his name has been on the pension list and 
dropped therefrom on account of his property. 

David Morrison of Alton, N. H.; yeoman; aged 65; 
wife Mary 6y, daughter Isabel, 38, unmarried and an inva- 
lid. Declaration February 3, 1829, in order to be restored 
to the Pension List, having been dropped on account of 
his property. Former Pension Certificate No. 13886 dated 
July 8, 1 8 19. Service: Enlisted for three years, February 
14, 1781, Capt. Robinson's Company and was afterwards 
transferred to Capt. Potter's Company, CoJ. Read's Regi- 
ment, discharged December, 1783, near West Point, N. Y. 

Benjamin Morse of Moultonborough, N. H.; aged 75: 
farmer; wife Nancy aged 64, grand-daughter Mary Ann 
Morse aged 7; declaration dated January 28, 1830. Ser- 
vice: "Enlisted June 1775 at Roxbury, Mass., for six 
months in place of David Hill by permission of Captain 
Thomas Cogswell who then Commanded A Company of 
Infantry in ColonelLaomi Baldwin's Regiment" Mass. line. 
Served until December following being the time for which 
said Hill enlisted. Re-enlisted at Roxbury, Mass., for one 
year in Captain Thomas Miels' company in Col. Baldwin's 
Regiment," where he served until December, 1776. Re- 
enlisted for the winter following at Trenton, New Jersey, 
in the same company and regiment, where he served until 
spring; discharged at Peekskill, N. Y. 

During the term that he was in service he was in the 
Battle of White Plains at Trenton— At the Battle of 
Princeton and at the Battle of Quibbleton— that his name 


his been placed upon the Pension list and dropped there- 
from on account of his property. 

Jonathan Morrison of Tuftonborough, N. H. (Dec- 
laration Missing.) 

Affidavit of five persons signed July 7, 1832, that Jonathan Morrison 
of Tuftonborough, X. H., served in the Revolutionary War the several 
periods of time, he has specified in his declaration in order to obtain a 

Edward B. Moulton of Moultonborough, N. H.; 
farmer; aged 6j; wife Anna aged 59, a cripple caused by 
rheumatism; declaration dated February 11, 1822. Service: 
"Enlisted at Hampton, N. H., sometime the first of May, 
1775, Capt. Henry Elkins' company, Col. Poor's Regiment; 
served until the 1st of January 1776 and by request of Gen'l 
Sullivan continued in the regiment aforesaid in the Compy 
of Capt. Beal until the first day of March, 1776, when he 
was discharged at Cambridge, Mass. Re-enlisted in 
August, 1776, under Captain Prescott, Colonel Tasker's 
Regiment and served until January, 1777, and was dismised 
at Peckskill, N. Y— that he was in the battle at White 
plains in 1776." 

Reuben Moulton. (Declaration missing.) 

I do hereby certify that Reuben Moulton the signer of the accom- 
paning declaration is a man of truth and varacity and has always (I 
believe) sustained that reputation. — & have no doubt as to the service he 
states he performed is true. 

August 23. 1832. 
Strafford ss, Aug't 23d, 1832. 
Sworn to before me, 

Paul Wkntworth, Jus. Peace 

George Nichols of Holderness, N. H.; farmer; aged 
68; wife Susanna aged 63, daughter Martha aged 38, inva- 
lid; declaration made September 9, 1822. Service: "Asa 
private in the Company commanded by Capt. Arch. Crary 
—Col. John Varnum's Regiment, Rhode Island line in the 
month of June 1775; and discharged in the month of June 


1778 at the White plains, State of New York, and was in 
the Battles at Bunker Hill and at White Plains." 

This declaration is accompanied by an affidavit of 
August 30, 1832, signed by Lucy Crawford and Mary Ann 
Nichols of Guilford, N. H.; daughters of the late George 
and Susanna Nichols of Holderness, N. H. In this affi- 
davit they state that George Nichols of Guilford, a Revolu- 
tionary Pensioner, died May 21, 1832, that the widow was 
now living, and that they were joined in marriage by the 
elder Judge Livermore of Holderness. 

David Page of Guilford, N. H.; died Jannary 13, 
1832. Revolutionary Soldier. Affidavit, April 3, 1832, of 
Richard Rowe and Deborah Rowe, his wife, of Guilford, 
says that David Page was their uncle, that his widow is 
Betsy Page, that they lived together as man and wife for 
more than thirty years and always understood they were 
joined in the marriage covenants, etc., that he was a Revo- 
lutionary Pensioner. 

David Piper of Wolfeborough, N. H.; farmer; aged 
64; wife 69 or 70 years of age, helpless; children Sally 
Piper born November 7, 1788, Abigail Piper born February 
13, 1792, Susanna Piper born April 1794, Mary Piper born 
April 25, 1800 — grandson John Piper aged four years 
whose father has deceased. Declaration signed February 
6, 1821. Service: "I enlisted into Capt. Titcomb's Com- 
pany in 1776, New Hampshire Line, attached to Col. Poor's 
Reg't, marched from Winter Hill to the City of New 
York, from thence to Albany, from thence to Ticonderoga, 
from thence to St. John's, from thence to Cynell, from 
thence to Montreal, from thence up the St. Laurence to 
Fort Ann, from thence returned to Montreal, from thence 
to Chimney point in New York; from thence to Mount 
Independence, from thence to Newtown in Pennsylvania. 
from thence to Trenton and assisted in capturing the Hes- 
sians, from thence returned to Newtown, from thence 
marched to Trenton, my Term of enlisment (which was 


for one year) then expired. I again enlisted into Capt. 
Titcomb's company for six weeks, and during that time 
was in the battle of Princeton, from thence marched to 
Morristown, when the term of my last enlistment expired. 
In June or July following (as I believe) I again enlisted for 
the term of three years into Capt. Gray's Company, New 
Hampshire line, attached to Col. ScammeH's Reg't, 
marched to Bennington; was in the battle of Bennington, 
from thence marched to the Mohawk Falls in New York, 
from thence marched to Bemis' Heights, and was engaged 
in both battles at that place, in the last of which, I received 
a wound in my head, and have been partially deaf ever since, 
from thence marched to Valley Forge, Pennsylvania, from 
thence to White plains, New York, from thence marched 
against the Indians as far as Genesee, under Gen'l Sullivan, 
from thence returned through New Jersey, and wintered 
at Newtown (Connecticut — and from thence marched to 
West Point, and was then honorably discharged." 

Reuben Ricker of Dover, N. H.; tailor; age 63; 
wife Molly aged 63; granddaughter aged 12. Declaration 
signed February 15, 1821. Original Declaration April, 
1817, pension certificate 1 55 13. Service: ''In Captain John 
Brewster's company in Colo. Peirse Long's regiment from 
August A. D. 1776, to August 1777, one year." 

Benjamin Roberts of Rochester, N. H.; aged 74; 
under guardianship of Caleb Roberts. Declaration signed 
February 4, 1829. Additional affidavit by Caleb Roberts 
February 2, 1S29, who was appointed guardian in February 
1 824. Service: "Enlisted for the term of one year in December 
1775 in the State of Mass. in the company of Captain Fred- 
erick M. Bell, Col. Poor's Regiment. He marched from Win- 
ter hill, near Boston, to New York & thence up the North 
river to Lake George & thence to Sorelle— and retreated 
with the Army to Ticonderoga — and was discharged at 
Mount Independence — having served at this time from 
December 1775 to November 177(5 — that his name has been 


placed on the pension list, and dropped therefrom on 
account of his property." 

James Sanbofn, Strafford County, N. H.; aged 63; 
wife and sick daughter; Declaration, September 4, 1823. 
Service: Enlisted for one year on or about the tenth of 
August, 1776, in Company of Capt. Timothy Chamberlain, 
Regiment of Col. Pierce Long. At expiration of term, 
discharged at Stillwater, N. Y. — That his name has been 
placed on the pension list, and dropt therefrom on account 
of his property 

Reuben Sanderson of Sandwich, N. H.; farmer; 
aged 66; wife 50, lame; children of his wife by former mar- 
riage Phineas Bacon 19, Jane Bacon 17, Edmund Bacon 13; 
my son John M. Sanderson aged 8. Declaration dated 
January 2, 1 82 1. Service: ''Eight years and seven months, 
in the years 1775 and 1776 a private in Col. Miles & Col. 
Shedings Regiments Connecticut line Continental service 
— Non commissioned officer in Col. Jedidiah Huntington's 
Regiment in E. Holmes' Company same line and same ser- 
vice till promoted to an Ensign & served in that office till 
promoted to a Lieutenant. Both of his commissions are 
now in the War Office." 

He was then receiving a pension (Certificate No. 2794) 
under his original declaration of April 25, 181 8. 

Moses Senter. 

Affidavit: I John Thompson depose & say that I have repeatedly 
heard Moses Senter relate his services in the Revolutionary War, and 
have no doubt of the truth & correctness of his declaration this day made 
in Court — he is a man of undoubted truth & veracity. 

Sworn in Court, Aug't 25, 1832. 

Att't A. Peirce, Clerk. 

Benjamin Sleeper of Alton, N. H.; aged 61; wife 
Ruth aged 58; Declaration July 18, 1820. Sendee: "He 
entered the Comp'y of Capt. Gray, Col. Scammell's Regi- 
ment New Hampshire line in 1777 for three years, served 




his time out and was discharged in 1780 April 20th at West 
Point. — was at the taking of Burgoyne at the battle of 
Monmouth, was in the Indian Country with Gen '1 Sulli- 
van, &c." 

Edward Smith of Gilmanton, N. H.; aged 73; farmer; 
having lost part of one hand, his wife having lost one eye. 
Declaration made February 7, 1828 to be restored to the 
pension list. Service: Enlisted for three years in March or 
April 1777, Capt. Frye's company, Col Cilley's Reg't; 
honorably discharged at expiration of his term of 

Henry Smith of Sanbornton, N. H.; farmer; aged 69 
years 10 months; wife, daughter Hannah Smith aged 35, 
daughter Huldah Smith aged 23, youngest son Gamaliel 
Smith aged 14, and Josiah C. Smith who has lived with me 
on hire between four and five years. Service: Enlisted for 
three years in April, 1782, in Capt. Monroe's Company, 
Col. Henry Dearborn's Regiment, "that he continued to 
serve in said regiment until the end of the War & was con- 
tinued in the service of the United States under Col. Reed 
& Hale untill 1784 when he was discharged from the ser- 
vice at West Point in the State of New York."* 

Declaration made October 21, 1830, in order to be 
continued on the Pension List. From his statement he 
had four sons, the oldest being eight years older than the 

Jeremiah Smith of Sanbornton, N. H.; aged 60; 
wife Lornhama aged 68; daughter Polly S. Smith aged 40, 
invalid; granddaughter Amanda Smith aged 5. Declaration 
February 10, 1821. (He was then receiving pension under 
original declaration April 28, 1818, pension certificate 
3385.) Service: "That on the fourth day of April A. D., 

•McDuffee's History of Rochester, Vol. I, page 7 i, Henry Smith engaged May i, 1781, 
tor three years. Claimed by town oi Rochester as in service May 13, 1782. Regiment 


1777, he enlisted in the Town of Sanbornton in said State 
in the Company commanded by Capt. James Gray and 
Regiment commanded by Col. Alexander Scammel New- 
hampshire line for three years — that he continued to serve 
the said three years in the United States on the Conti- 
nental establishment in the Revolutionary war and was 
discharged at Danbury in the State of Connecticut on the 
fourth day of April 1780." 

Joseph Smith of Sanbornton, N. H.; tailor; aged 70; 
wife aged 57; son aged 18 and insane. Declaration July 
18, 1820. He then held pension certificate 14322 under 
original declaration April 9, 1818. Service: "I enlisted 
February 17, 1776 under Capt. Jacob Gerrish in Col. 
Moses Little's Regiment, Massachusetts line for one year 
and was discharged the 20th of December following on 
account of being troubled with Rheumatism." 

Eli Sumner of Rochester, N. H; aged 65; wife 
Elizabeth aged 59; granddaughter aged 14. Declaration 
July 4, 1820. He then held pension certificate 7724 
under original declaration April 16, 181S. Service: "1777- 
1778-1779 inclusive — That he enlisted in the Company 
Commanded by Captain John Spurr in the Sixth Regiment 
Commanded by Col. John Nixon in the Massachusetts 
Line — That he was regularly & honorably discharged from 
the service." 

Daniel Swett of Gilmanton, N. H.; farmer; aged 
58 years; wife aged 56 infirm; daughter Lydia 18, son Ben- 
jamin 16, daughter Eunice 12, daughter Almira 10. Dec- 
laration September 7, 1821. He then held pension certifi- 
cate 15873 under original declaration April 23, 1818. Ser- 
vice: "He entered the sen-ice of the United States on the 
16th July 1779 and served under Capt. Carr in Col. Reids 
Regiment in the New Hampshire line untill 19th July 
1780 when he was honorably discharged." 

William Taylor of Sanbornton, N. H.; Cordwainer; 
aged 63; son 18, son 12 "and a servant girl who cooks for 


us." Declaration July 18, 1820. He then held pension 
certificate 3388 under original declaration of April 9, 181S. 
Service: 4 'I enlisted under Captain Jeremiah Clough 
belonging to CoL Enoch Poor's Regiment of the New 
Hampshire line for seven months in May 1775, marched to 
a place Winter Hill in June following staid there til 
December following, my term being then about to expire I 
then enlisted under the same Capt. Clough for the term of 
one year — We staid at said Winter Hill until March 1776 
when we marched to New York, thence to Canada, from 
thence we marched to Ticonderoga which was about some 
time in July of the same year. In November following 
Col. Poor's Regiment was ordered to March to the South 
at which time I was sick and left but received permission 
to return home as soon as I was able which I did sometime 
in December following making in the whole time I was out 
at that time about 19 months." 

Ephraim Tebbets Strafford County, N. H.; joiner; 
aged y^, partially blind; wife Tamson aged 68, daughters 
Tamson Tebbets aged 34 invalid, Betsey Tebbets aged 28, 
grandson Ephraim Tebbets. Declaration September 15, 
1826. Service: Enlisted for eight months about May 15, 
1775, m Capt Swinborn Adam's company, Col. Poor's Regt.; 
and about the expiration of said eight months, he enlisted 
for one year in Capt. Jonathan Wentworth's company in 
the same regiment; served till February, 1777, when he was 
discharged from the service at Exeter, N. H. Filed 
another declaration February 4, 1829. 

David Thompson, Guilford, N. H.; farmer; aged 6y y 
wife Rachel aged 53, son Levi aged 14, daughter Judith 
Thompson aged 22 in feeble health. Declaration July 18, 
1820. Service: "A private in the Company Commanded 
by Capt, Jacob Hinds in Col. James Reeds Regiment New 
Hampshire Line on the Continental establishment from 
the fore part of the year 1775 for eight months when he 
again enlisted in the same company & served until the last 


of the year 1776 and that he again enlisted in the first of 
the year 1778 for three years in the Regiment commanded 
by Col. Tho's Crafts in the Massachusetts Line, (Captain's 
name not remembered) & continued two years when the 
regiment was broken up — That he was in the battle of 
Rhode Island in 1778." 

Samuel Thompson of Sandwich, N. H.; farmer; aged 
64; wife 50; daughter 13. Declaration July 14, 1820. He 
then held pension certificate 7718 under original declaration 
April 24, 181 8. Service: "Seven years in all. Eighteen 
months in the Regiment commanded by Col. Enoch Poor 
in the New Hampshire Line, Continental service. Five 
years in the Corps of Rangers commanded by Maj'r Benja 
Whitcomb. The remainder of said time served in the 
Second New Hampshire Regiment commanded by Col. 
George Read, all in the Continental Service."* 

John B. Tilton, (Declaration missing.) 

Affidavit. I do certify that I am well acquainted with John B. 
Tilton the signer of the accompanying declaration and that 1 consider 
him a man of truth and has that reputation and I do believe & have no 
doubt that he performed the services therein set forth. 

Aug't 23d 1S32 

Strafford S. s. August 23d 1832 
Sworn to Before me 

Geo. F. Marston, Jus. Peace. 

William Twombly, Dover, N. H.; Mariner; aged 6y, 
wife aged 50, and an elderly sister dependent and infirm; 
son 21 years old, infirm; son 15 years old. Declaration July 
4, 1820. He then held pension certificate 809 under original 
declaration April 11, 1818. Service: "That he entered the 
service in the fall of the year 1775 in the Company com- 
manded by Capt. Benjamin Titcomb in Col. Poor's Regi- 
ment of the New Hampshire line, that in 1776 he was 
appointed Orderly Sergeant of said Company and that he 

♦The Revolutionary War Rolls, N. H., and the Durham Town Records show that this 
Samuel Thompson and his family resided in Durham, N. H., during the war. 



received a commission of Ensign in the same Company & 
Regiment in October, 1777 which commission was trans- 
mitted to the Office of the Secretary of War with his 
former declaration & that he continued in said service till 
1780 when he received his Discharge at his own request as 
appears on the back of said Commission & that during all 
that time he continued in said service." 

John Wadleigh, Gilmanton, N. H.; aged 65, wife 
Martha aged 49, children, Sophia 8, Larry 6, Nathan 3. 
Declaration July 18, 1820. He then held pension certifi- 
cate 2791 under original declaration of April n, 1818. 
Service: "In Captain Michael McClary's company in Col. 
Alexander Scammel's Regiment, enlisted 1777 and served 
during the War." 

Nathaniel Wadleigh of Meredith, N. H.; farmer; 
aged 69, lost part of one hand, wife subject to fits. Declar- 
ation August 11, 1828. Service: "Enlisted as a Soldier for 
the term of nine months sometime in the month of June, 
1778, in the Massachusetts' line in the Company com- 
manded by Capt. Marshall in Col. Marshall's Regiment in 
the State of Massachusetts on the Continental Establish- 
ment, that he continued to serve in said Regiment for said 
term of nine months and was honorably discharged after 
his term of enlistment had expired." 

Benjamin Wallace of Sandwich, N. H.; farmer; 
aged 56; wife 60; son Jere. Wallace aged 35, son Benjamin 
Wallace non-compos mentis, daughter Hannah Wallace. 
Declaration July 14, 1820, and January 2, 1821. He then 
held pension certificate No. 7323 under Original declaration 
April 24, 1 81 8. Service: "Three years in the second New 
Hampshire Regiment commanded by Col. George Read on 
the Continental establishment, and was discharged by Gen- 
eral Jackson, which discharge has been forwarded to the 
War Department by Judge Badger before whom I made 
my original declaration" 


Cesar Wallace of Meredith, N. H.; farmer; aged 
90; wife Katy aged 72, daughter Lucy aged 27. Declar- 
ation July 18, 1820. He then held pension certificate No. 
4826 under original declaration of April 23, 1818. Service: 
private in Capt. Caleb Robinson's company, Second N. H. 
Regiment commanded by Col. George Reed. He was dis- 
charged at Hartford. He was in the Indian country, at 
the battle of Herkimer, at Bunker Hill etc. He entered 
in 1777 anc * served until the close of the war. 

Weymouth Wallace of Sandwich, N. H.; farmer; 
aged yy; granddaughter living with him. Declaration Feb- 
ruary 7, 1S29. 

Sendee: "Enlisted for the term of nine months in May 
1776 at Epsom in the State of New Hampshire in the Com- 
pany commanded by Captain Amos Morrill in the Regi- 
ment commanded by Colonel John Stark in the line of 
New Hampshire on the Continental Establishment and that 
at the expiration of said nine months he the said Wey- 
mouth Wallis again enlisted for the further term of one 
year in the same company and Regiment in the line of New 
Hampshire on the continental establishment and that he 
continued to serve in said Corps from the time of his first 
said enlistment until December 1777 when he was dis- 
charged from the service in Lower Canada, that he was 
wounded in the Battle of Bunker Hill by a ball which 
passed through his arm, that he now receives a pension of 
forty eight dollars as an invalid pensioner, that his name 
has been placed on the pension list under the act of 1818 
and dropped therefrom on account of his property." 

He made a previous declaration July 14, 1820, in which 
he stated that he then held pension certificate No. 13456, 
aged 69; daughter Sally Wallace aged 29; granddaughter 
named Lovina Mooney aged 21; grandson aged 8 years. 
Service: "Nine months in Capt. Henry Dearborn's com- 
pany and was wounded in the Battle of Bunker Hill in year 
1776. One year in the Regiment commanded by Col. John 


Stark and Company Commanded by Capt. Amos Morrill, 
commencing in November or December 1776 and ending 


(Both declarations of services are given as they differ 

Francis Walls of Durham, N. H.; age 60, no family, 
declaration July 26, 1820. Service: "I Francis Walls now 
resident in Durham, etc., aged sixty years depose on oath 
that I enlisted in the service of the U. S. in the revolu- 
tionary war some time in December 1775, as a drummer in 
the Company commanded by Capt. Benjamin Titcomb of 
the s'd N. H. Reg't, for one year which time I served in 
said company & at the expiration of said year's service I 
again enlisted in said company which then was at Ticon- 
deroga to serve during the war & that I continued in the 
same company & Reg't which company was successively 
commanded by Capt. Titcomb, Rowel & Fogg until June 
1783 when I was discharged from said service at West 
Point in the State of New York — That I was in the Battles 
of Trenton, Princeton, Hubbardston, two Battles with Bur- 
goyne nigh Stillwater, Monmouth, & Fort Herkimer." 

William Warren of Moultonboro', N. H.; Carpen- 
ter; aged 68; wife aged 67. Declaration July 11, 1820. 
Service: "One year in the Regiment commanded by Col. 
Edward Phinney & in the Company commanded by Capt. 
Abraham Tyler in the Massachusetts line. He entered in 
December 1775 & was discharged January 1777" 

Daniel Watson of Rochester, N. H.; aged 67; wife 
aged about 50 and insane. Declaration July 4, 1820. He 
then held pension certificate 7728 under original declaration 
of April 4, 1818. Service: "That he enlisted in the com- 
pany commanded by Capt. James Carr, in Col. Hale's Regi- 
ment in the New Hampshire line on the 2d day of May, 
1777, that he joined the Army the June following at Ticon- 
deroga, that he continued in said service three years for 


which time he enlisted when he was honorably discharged 
at West Point." 

John Watson of Sandwich, N. H,; farmer; aged 62; 
wife aged 65; son John Watson 20, daughter Betsey Wat- 
son 17. Declaration July 14., 1820. He then held pension 
certificate 16504 under original declaration April 25, 18 18. 
Service: "One year in Colonel Poor's Regiment in the 
Company commanded by Captain Philip Tilton in the New 
Hampshire line and Continental establishment Said service 
performed in the year 1776." 

John Watson of Wakefield, N. H.; farmer; aged 60; 
wife 70. Declaration July 11, 1820. He then held pen- 
sion certificate 7571 under original declaration April 14, 
1818. Service: "In the Company commanded by Captain 
David McGregor in the Second New Hampshire Regiment 
Commanded by Colonel George Reed and when during 
the war men were discharged I was transferred to Captain 
Isaac Frye's company in s'd Regiment and served in the 
whole three years in the Continental service and was honor- 
ably discharged by Gen'] Jackson at West Point Dec'r 
20, 1783" 

Supplementary Declarations made August 7, 1822, -and 
August 1, 1823, in the last he stated that his name has 
been placed on the Pension list, and dropped therefrom on 
account of his property. (Not able to attend court per- 

Joseph Weed of Ossipee, N. H.; blacksmith; aged 66; 
wife Abigail aged 59: sons Moses and Aaron aged 12. 
Declaration July 11, 1820. He then held pension certifi- 
cate 1 1788 original declaration May 13, 1818. Service: 
"In the Company Commanded by Captain John Baker, 
Col. Little's Regiment, Massachusetts line in the year 
1776 about ten months and was in the battle of flat- 
bush and was in the battle between the American Gallies 
and the British frigates at topon bay in the North river. 
And served in the Company Commanded by Captain Cogs- 


well in Col. Wesson's Regiment, Massachusetts line from 
March or April 1777 to March 1780 and was in the battle 
at Monmouth." 

Stephen Webster, 2d, of New Durham, N. H.; aged 
79; no family living with him. Declaration July 11, 1820. 
He then held pension certificate 13916 under original 
declaration of June 11, 1818. Service: "He enlisted in 
1776 in Col. Timo. Beedles' Regiment. New Hampshire line 
as a Soldier and continued 8 months & was regularly dis- 
charged. In 1777 was with Gen. Stark two months & was 
at the Battle of Bennington — asrain enlisted in 177S in 


Capt. Daniel Livermore's Comp'y, Col. Scammell's Regi- 
ment, and continued in said Reg't three years & was regu- 
larly discharged in 1781." 

Matthias Welch of Rochester, N. H.; aged 66; wife 
Rachel aged 62. Declaration July 4, 1820. He then held 
pension certificate 4778 under original declaration April 16, 
1818. Service: "That he served in Capt. John Drew's 
Company, Second Regiment New Hampshire Line, that he 
enlisted in said service about the month of November 1776 
and continued in said service untill the year 1783 when he 
was honorably discharged from the Army."* 

Phineas Went worth of Dover, N. H.; aged 71; no 
family residing with him. Declaration July 4, 1820. He 
then held pension certificate 9620 under original declara- 
tion of April 13, 1818. Service: "That he entered into 
said service in June or July 1775 in Capt. Benjamin 
Titcomb's Company & Col. Poor's Reg't of the New Hamp- 
shire line & that he continued in said service till June 1783 
when he was discharged. 

Joseph White of Ossipee, N. H.; farmer; aged 58; 
wife Jane 57; children, Polly 16, Eunice 13, Joseph 10, 

*McDuffee's History of Rochester, Vol. I, page 71, Matthias Welch (of Rochester) 
engaged February, 1777, for the war, deserted November 27, 1778; joined May 1, 1780. 
Claimed by the town as in service May 13, 1782. 


Isaac 8, Sally 5. Declaration July 11, 1820 (one arm, sev- 
eral ribs broken & shoulder broken down, very much crip- 
pled.) He then held pension certificate no 12727 under 
original declaration May 12, 181 8. Service: "In the Com- 
pany Commanded by Capt'n Joseph Killam in the fifth 
Regiment Massachusetts line from some time in the year 
1781 to the last of the year 1783 or the first of the year 
1784, when he was discharged at West point, by General 
Knox. Served in the Company & service aforesaid between 
two and three years." 

Jonathan Whitehorn of Alton, N. H.; farmer; aged 
64; wife aged 64; declaration July 11, 1820. He then held 
pension certificate 12728 under original declaration April 
21, 1818. Service: "He enlisted in June 1775 into the 
Company commanded by Capt. Jonathan Went worth for 
eighteen months. He joined the army at Winterhill, he 
was in Col. Poor's Regiment, New Hampshire line, from 
Winterhill he marched to New London, from thence to 
New York and so on a circuitous route to Philadelphia, 
thence to West point and Ticonderoga, thence with Gen. 
Arnold into Canada, thence to Mount Independence where 
his term of eighteen months was expired and he had a reg- 
ular discharge." 

Silas White of Ossipee, N. H.; farmer; aged 61; 
wife Rachel aged 63; my daughter Rachel aged 39 and her 
child 4 years old, my daughter Anna aged 27 and her three 
children, my daughter Fanny aged 18. Declaration July 5, 
1820. He then held pension certificate 12730 under origi- 
nal declaration of May 12, 1818. Service: "In the eight 
months service at Cambridge, Capt. Phillip Hubbard's 
Company, Col. Scammon's Regiment from June or July to 
the end thereof. In 1776 served under Capt. Jona Nowells, 
Col. Wm Prescotts Regiment in the Massachusetts line 
twelve months in New York. In 1777 he served under 
Capt. Elisha Shapleigh two months in Col. Storer's Regi- 
ment at Saratoga. In 1778 he served eight months in 


Capt. Thomas Hodgdon's company in Col. Poor's Regi- 
ment at West Point. In 1779 he served two months under 
Capt. John Goodwin at Penobscot in the District of 

Andrew Whittier of Guilford, N. H.; farmer; aged 
59; wife Anna aged 58; children Elizabeth Whitcher 33, 
invalid, Timothy Whitcher 25, infirm, Jacob Whitcher, 18, 
Moses Whitcher 16, Andrew Whitcher, 13. Declaration 
July 18, 1820. He then held pension certificate 17002 
under original declaration September 9, 18 19. Service: 
"As a private in the Company commanded by Capt. John 
Calef, Col. Pearce Long's Regiment, New Hampshire Line, 
Continental Establishment from about August 7th 1776 till 
August 8th 1777 & was discharged at Stillwater — was in 
the battle of Fort Ann." 

He filed an additional declaration September 6, 1823, 
and stated that his name had been placed on the pension 
list, and dropt therefrom on account of his property. 

Benjamin Wiggin, Tuftonborough, N. H. (Declar- 
ation missing.) 

Affidavit. We the subscribers depose and say, that we have been 
acquainted with Benjamin Wiggin formerly of Stratham in the County of 
Rockingham, now of Tuftonborough this County of Strafford for many 
years last past and believe him to be a man of strict truth and veracity, 
and whose character is unimpeachable; and have no doubt he served in 
the army of the United States in the New Hampshire Militia, New Hamp- 
shire line in the manner he has stated in the declaration he has made in 
o-cier to entitle himself to a pension under the act of Congress passed 
June 7th 1832 

Strafford s. s. 
Aog't 23 1832 Sworn to before me: Joseph Farrer, Justice of Peace. 

Lt. Col. Mark Wiggin of Wolfeborough, N. H.; 
husbandman; aged 74, no family living with him. Declar- 
ation July 11, 1820. He then held pension certificate 



16309 under original declaration May 2, 18 18. Service: 
He was commissioned a Captain of the first company of 
the Few Hampshire Regiment commanded by Col. Pierce 
Long, in August 1776 & served therein for one year and 
was honorably discharged the 8th of August, 1777 — He 
was a Major in the militia and assisted as such at the tak- 
ing of Burgoyne's Army, was a Lieut. Col. in Col Kelly's 
Reg't with Gen'l Sullivan at Rhode Island 

Charles Willey of Lee, N. H.; aged 65; wife Deb- 
orah aged 62, children Lydia aged 22, Mark aged 12, John- 
son aged 6. Declaration July 5, 1820. Service: "He 
entered as a Soldier in Capt. Amos Morrill's Company (as 
near as he can recollect in the month of March, 1777) and 
was attached to the Second New Hampshire Regiment in 
the New Hampshire line of Continental troops commanded 
by Col. Reid — that he continued to serve in said corps in 
the service of the United States until about the first of 
January 1778 when he was discharged from service in the 
State of New York." 

Josiah Willey of Wolfborough, N. H.; farmer; aged 
70; wife 69; granddaughter 13. Declarations (August 17, 
1831 and) January 19, 1832. (He had a son Josiah Willey 
to whom he had deeded his homestead.) Service: Enlisted 
for one year in March, 1779, in the company commanded 
by Capt. Chase of Dover, Col. Reed's Regiment, continued 
until June, 1780, when he was discharged from the service 
at West Point in the State of New York. 

James Wilkinson of Alton, N. H.; aged 69; wife 
Lydia aged 45. Declaration July 11, 1820. He then held 
pension certificate 9618 under original declaration of April 
18, 181 8. Service: 'He entered Capt. Wier's Comp'y, 
Col. Scammel's Regiment, New Hampshire line, in April. 
1777 for three years which time he served and was honour- 
ably discharged — he was at the taking of Burguoyne & was 
wounded in the head — was with Gen'l Sullivan in the 
Indian Country — in 1779 &c." 


Enoch Wingate of Milton, N. H.; aged 6j\ no family 
residing with him. Declaration July 4, 1820. He then 
held pension certificate 1194 under original declaration of 
April 7, 18 1 8. Service: "that he served in Capt. Nowell's 
Company, Second Regiment New Hampshire line — that he 
enlisted in said service about the month of April 1777 and 
Continued in s'd service untill the year 1780 when he was 
honourably discharged from the army." (Enoch Wingate 
engaged May 1, 1777, for three years. Discharged May 1, 
17S0. Died August 4, 1828, according to McDuffee's His- 
tory of Rochester, N. H.) 

Elijah With am of Rochester, N. H.; age 65; wife 
Hitty aged 68; son John. Declaration July 5, 1820. He 
then held pension certificate 16120 under original declar- 
ation April 4, 18 18. Service: "He entered November 1775 
in the Company of Capt. Silas Wild, in the Regiment com- 
manded by Col. Edmund Phinney in the Massachusetts 
line & served therein for the term of about one year & two 
months & was discharged at Fort W'm Henry or Lake 
George about the first of Jan'y 1777." 

Nathan Witham of Meredith, N. H. (Declaration 

Affidavit. We Rhoda Bagley and Sally G. Bagley both of Mere- 
dith in the County of Strafford and State of New Hampshire, depose and 
say, that we were acquainted with Nathan Witham a Pensioner of the 
United States and was on the Pension Roll in the State of Maine, and 
that the said Nathan Witham departed this life on the sixth day of 
November 1824 — And further depose and say that Rhoda Witham the 
Widow of said Nathan Witham deceased, was living a few days since, 
and have not any doubts they were lawfully married as they lived together 
many years and were the parents of seven children, and I the said Rhoda 
Bagley being one of their children. 


State of New Hampshire | . . , 

Strafford County s S. f An %' 3 Ist l8 3* 

Sworn and subscribed to on the day and year last above written, 
Before me 

DAx\'Iel Gale, Jus. Peace. 


Daniel Woodman of Durham, N. H.; aged 70; wife 
Nancy aged 64. Declaration July 4, 1820. He then held 
pension certificate 9617 under origiual declaration of April 
19, 1818. Service: "He entered on the 24th June 1777 in 
Capt. Rowell's company in Col. Geo. Reid's Reg't New 
Hampshire line as a private Soldier & continued in said 
Regiment three years next ensuing said enlistment, when 
he was regularly discharged." 

Jeremiah Woodman of Alton, N. H.; aged 59; wife 
Mary, 59; daughter Hannah aged 19. Declaration July 18, 
1820. He then held pension certificate 13885 under origi- 
nal declaration April 21, 181 8. Service: "He entered Capt. 
Brown's Company in Col. Long's Regiment in the New 
Hampshire line, August 1776 for one year and was dis- 
charged after serving his time out in August 1777." 

James Worcester of Alton, N. H.; aged 69; wife 
aged 69; Betsey Dorr aged 67 infirm. Declaration July 
11, 1820. He then held pension certificate 13550 under 
original declaration April 21, 1818. Service: "In 1776 I en- 
listed into the Company commanded by Capt. Beal, attached 
to Col. Scammell's Reg't, New Hampshire line and in ser- 
vice during the war. I was in the battle at Bemis heights, 
and with Gen'l Sullivan at the battle at Jamestown and at 
the surrender of Cornwallis." 

Samuel Yeaton of Durham, N. H.; Cooper; aged "jy y 
wife Margaret aged 72. Declaration July 4, 1820, by his 
guardian John Yeaton (Samuel Yeaton being insane). He 
held a pension certificate 9621 under original declaration of 
April I, 1818. Service: "He said Samuel Yeaton being 
now insane and under the care of a Guardian this blank 
cannot be filled." 

Samuel York of Guilford, N. H.; farmer; aged 69; 
wife Molly aged 61. Declaration July 18, 1820. He then 
held pension certificate 7720 under original declaration 
April 4, 181 8. Service: "As a private in the Company 


commanded by Captain Isaac Frye — Col. Dearborn's Regi- 
ment, New Hampshire line, from the spring of 1780, untill 
the close of the War in 1783, in July when the Army was 

Jonathan Young of Milton, N. H.; Cooper;aged 6S; 
wife in 79th year; daughter Anny Garlin, widow, aged 33; 
grandson aged 3 named Ebenezer Garland.. Declaration 
July 4, 1820. He then held pension certificate 1432S under 
original declaration April 14, 1818. Service: "That he 
enlisted in the town of Manchester in the State of Massa- 
chusetts in May 1775 under Capt. Kimball in Col. Mans- 
field's Regiment for 8 months and marched to Cambridge, 
and continued there untill fall following when he enlisted 
for one year in said Kimballs company in Col. Hutchin- 
son's Regiment and marched to New York & continued 
there untill fall following — then went to fourt lee & had a 
skirmish with the enemy & was obliged to retreat; thence 
went to Pennsylvania and crossed the river at Clintown & 
had a battle with the enemy and took about nine hundred 
of them and was there discharged in December one thou- 
sand seven hundred and seventy six." 

Durham, N. H., June 18, 1907. 
Strafford, ss. 

I, Lucien Thompson, a notary public in and for the county of Straf- 
ford and state of New Hampshire, hereby certify that I carefully copied 
the foregoing Revolutionary Pension Declarations from originals on file at 
the office of the clerk of the Superior Court of Strafford County, New 
Hampshire, in the court house at Dover, N. H. 

I certify further that those declarations of Revolutionary service 
enclosed in quotation marks are true copies of said Revolutionary service 
and that those not enclosed with quotations are abstracts of said service, 
which include all essential information. 


Notary Public. 



Statement of Military Record of Josefjh Richardson 

Joseph Richardson doth here in Court further declare on oath, that 
he served in the revolutionary war as follows, viz: In the spring of 1775 
I enlisted in Capt. Benj'n Titcomb's company in the 2d N. H. Regiment 
commanded by Col. Poor for the term of 8 months during which I was 
present at an affair with the enemy at Charlestown neck, immediately after 
the expiration of this term I reenlisted in the same Company and regiment 
for the term of twelve months during which I was present at the retreat of 
the American army from Canada and was severely wounded in the arm by 
a party of Indians in consequence of which disability I was after the lapse 
of thirty years placed upon the Invalid pension list; — about the expiration 
of my term of service I was present at the capture of the Hessians at 
Trenton in Dec. 1776, having volunteered the additional term of six weeks 
after the expiration of my enlistment. I was likewise present at the affair 
at Princeton about the same time in which my cartridge box containing my 
pittance of savings was shot from my side and destroyed by a cannon ball: 
— Afterwards enlisted in the same company and regiment (then com- 
manded by Col. Hale.) for a term of three years — was present at the retreat 
from Ticonderoga in 1777 and was in the engagement at Hubbardston 
where I was wounded in the shoulder — I afterwards assisted a*- the capture 
of Burgoyne in the autumn of the same year and then marched into winter 
quarters at Valley Forge. — In the year 1778 was at Monmouth and spent 
the season with the main army at White Flains &c. — In the year 1779 
marched with Maj. Gen. Sullivan into the Indian Country and was present 
at the engagement with the Indians at Newtown. 

After the return of the army I was in the month of January 1780 
honorably discharged at Danbury in the State of Connecticut my term of 
service having expired and after having spent nearly five years of the 
flower of my life and lost the service of my limbs in the cause of my 
country nor was it until the year 1809 that my duty to my family required 
me to apply for the same enumeration for these sacrifices when the pitiful 
allowance of Two dollars and fifty cents upon the pension list was made 
me which was regarded not as a favor, but as an inadequate compensation 
for a debt earned with the greatest exertion & suffering. 

A resident citizen of the United States, March i8 ; 1818. 

♦Joseph Richardson, Esquire, was appointed Captain of the Company of Artillery in the 
Regiment commanded by Col. Thomas Thompson in the State of New Hampshire, by John 
Sullivan, Esq., President of our State, at Dnrham the fifteenth day of March, A. D. 1787, 
Joseph Pearson, Secretary. 


Captain Joseph Richardson was born in Boston, Mass., 
December 25, 1756, and died in Durham, N. H., November 
22, 1824, and was buried in the village cemetery. He mar- 
ried Sarah (Burnham) Hanson of Dover, who was born 
December 22, 1762, and died December 19, 183 1. They 
were married by Rev. Jeremy Belknap, December 14, 
1783. They had eight children. 

» Durham, N. H., June 18, 1907. 

Strafford, ss. 

I, Lucien Thompson, a notary public in and for the county of Straf- 
ford and state of New Hampshire, hereby certify that the foregoing is a 
true copy of a paper in the possession of Hon. Joshua B. Smith of Dur- 
ham, N. H., said copy being carefully made by myself within three months 
from date. 


Notary Public. 

^agnolta anb pine 

By T. C. Harbaugh 

Among the many "tributes to memory" that have come from our 
"little army" of poets, treating of war themes, we know of few that awaken 
more tender thoughts than the following beautiful offering, reprinted here 
from "Lyrics of the Gray." — Editor. 

Where the rivers of the Southland 

Seek the ever shadeless seas, 
Branch and blossom quiver gently 

In the sweetly scented breeze; 
And the robin woos his sweetheart, 

Now in shadow, now in shine, 
While the queen of the magnolias 

Whispers love unto the pine. 


In the summer's deepened twilight 

Where the gray-clad legions trod, 
You can hear the holy vespers 

Nature wafts unto her God; 
Then you bow the knee in silence 

And the cares of life resign, 
Where the leaves of the magnolia 

Touch the branches of the pine. 

Hear their music, softly lifting 

Where the winds of morning play, 
And the chorus of the forest 

Like an anthem floats away; 
Where the mountains in their glory 

Nature's loveliness enshrine, 
Like a bride the fair magnolia 

Nestles to the kingly pine. 

Past them on its endless mission 

With a trill the brooklet glides, 
Bearing outward frond and blossom 

To the bosom of the tides, 
While deep in their native regions, 

Clad in majesty divine, 
Stand the beautiful magnolia 

And the ever princely pine. 

Who would rob them of their story? 

Who would seek to lay them low? 
As they lift their heads in splendor, 

Nations come and nations go; 
Empires rise and empires wither 

Like the blossoms of the vine, 
But the dew of heaven falleth 

On magnolia and pine. 


A Plain Tale of Plain People, Some of Whom You May Have 
Known, All of Whom Lived a Third of a Century Ago 

By George Waldo Browne 

[Copyright, 1906, by the Author] 
What shadows we are and what shadows we pursue ! — Burke. 



When ye kind o' git t' thinkin' 

You're the whole endurin' thing, 
When ye think th' world must have ye — 

Same's a kite must have a string, — 
Then it's time t' fix fer dodgin' 

An' begin t' look aroun' — 
'Cause they's sumpin goin' t' hit ye 

That'll surely take ye down. 


Cj[ T WAS the general opinion that Captain Reed had 
Jb acted unwisely in abruptly ending the trial, but as it 
is always easier to fret over a break than it is to 
mend the fractured article, so while his action was con- 
demned by the majority it was too late to recover the loss, 
if any loss had been made. No sooner was the hearing 
dismissed than the town claimant escorted his giant lawyer 
out of the hall and, while the spectators stood agape with 
awe and wonder, he assisted the latter into the carriage and 
then entering himself, the twain were driven away by the 
colored coachman, and not until the last echo of the 
rumbling wheels of the equipage had died away in the dis- 
tance did the spectators of that day's scene draw a long 



"Gosh all hemlock!" exclaimed a tall, gawky youth 
with a freckled nose, "did yeou ever see th* beat of that?" 

Nobody answered this question, for each one had a far 
more important question to ask of his own. Captain Eb 
was fidgeting about the table, seeming neither able to leave 
nor to stand still. Finally he managed to exclaim to no 
one in particular but to every one in general: 

"Did yaou ever see th' like of him?" 

"He makes a fitting addition to their team," replied 
the squire. "The three put me in mind of the two asses 
that formed a partnership with a lion to go hunting. The 
three went out together, and starting a fat stag the asses 
were told by the lion to run the game into a corner, where 
he would lie in wait for it and then capture it. This plan 
proved successful; the poor stag was pounced upon by the 
lion and killed. Their appetites whetted by their recent 
exertions, the asses now came humbly forward to get their 
share of the game, but the lion only greeted them with 
growls at first, though finally, putting his forefeet upon the 
carcass, he said: 'We will suppose this carcass to be 
divided into three equal parts. One of these parts belongs 
to me in my official capacity; another is my personal share; 
and the third goes to him who dares to take it.' It is need- 
less to say that the asses went hungry that day." 

"I take it you think th' taown will go hungry from this 
big lion?" asked a bystander. 

"When the rest of you have got done monkeying with 
these strangers, I will take a hand," replied Squire New- 
begin. "Just now I am busy," and without stopping to 
say any more he left the hall and an hour later he was seen 
driving toward Coldbrook at a smart gait. 

Meanwhile the crowd dispersed reluctantly. Captain 
Eb and Deacon Goodwill remained in close conversation 
with Lawyer Wilcox for nearly an hour, the result of which 
was unknown to the anxious witnesses. As soon as his 
friend left the hall in company with the new lawyer, Leon- 
ard Quiver also went down the stairs and out into the open 


air. Here he, too, drew a good long breath of freedom. 
While the mysterious stranger had not impressed him as 
forcibly as he had others, the very atmosphere of the hall 
had seemed oppressive, and he felt relieved to be outside. 
Some of the crowd were still lingering about the yard. 
Bige Little still maintained his post, his loud voice falling 
frequently on the scene. Within the store, which was 
pretty well filled, Homer Bland was playing on his violin 
and singing one of his songs. He noticed that the man 
sitting on the nail keg, jackknife in hand, had for once for- 
gotten his busy occupation, while he stared in an absent- 
minded manner along the road in the course the glittering 
coach had gone. 

"Seems like a dream," thought Leonard Quiver, "and 
there is this consolation in thinking that like a dream it 
will go away." 

The sight of Miss Newbegin suddenly checked his 
flow of dismal thoughts and, seeing that she was beckoning 
to him, he advanced with light step to her side. 

"What have they done?" she asked. "I must say that 
I think you two are horrid men to come here and give us 
all such a fright. I would never speak to you, but father 
says it will amount to nothing, so I forget the evil that you 
wish us." 

"Nothing definite has been gained, as far as I can see," 
replied he. "I am afraid you misjudge us, Miss Newbegin. 
I should indeed feel sorry to incur your displeasure, but 
you must remember there are two sides to most questions. 
I might say all, but I need not mention any but this." 

"Oh, fie! Father says, and he knows more about this 
matter than any other person, that your claim is not worth 
the paper it is written on. Do you know he treats the 
whole matter as a huge joke, and I think he really enjoys 
it. But who was that big stranger here to-day, whom 
everybody is talking about?" 

"I must claim an ignorance equal to yours. He is a 
lawyer that Mr. Bidwell found to help defend our case." 


"I judge from what the people are saying that he must 
be a very learned and powerful man. Father went away 
in such a hurry that I didnt have time to ask him anything 
about the matter. You know the races at Coldbrook come 
off to-morrow. I shall be glad when they are over. 
Father has been in a fever of excitement for a month. I 
do think these races are horrible. But here I am running 
on like a village gossip, when I merely wanted to ask you 
if you had heard that Ken Fok'sle is going to launch his 
ship Friday evening? People say that it is an unlucky 
time. What do you think?" 

"That the opportune time is never unlucky, let it come 
on what day it may. I suppose he is very anxious about 
it — I mean his vessel." 

"Oh, yes. He thinks he is going to sea in his ship 
and find his long-lost boy. Poor man! I wonder what the 
result will be when he awakens from his dream, as he 
must, to-morrow night. I pity him, but I pity Mrs. Fok'sle 
more. Vinnie feels badly, too. Only last night Joe Nick- 
leby got drunk. But I was thankful he knew enough not 
to go near her, so I do not think she knows it. He says 
he will never drink again. I hope he will keep his promise 
this time, but he has broken his good resolutions so many 
times one has little faith in his ability to keep them now. 
There comes the doctor. He must be going up to see 
Sarah Gooseberry. They say she is really sick, and it is 
doubtful if she gets well again. Well, Sarah is a good 
woman, only she has a sharp tongue. But you will think it 
is no more unruly than mine if I do not stop. I have work 
to do. It must be nice to be a gentleman of leisure," and 
with this parting shot she darted into the house, while he 
started on his way through the village. 

He noticed that Uncle Life had gathered his usual 
knot of listeners and was arguing that a man's size had 
nothing to do with his intellectual ability, citing case after 
case of small men who had won imperishable renown. 

Leaving the sage and his listeners to discuss such 


matters as interested them most, Leonard Quiver hastened 
on his way, his mind filled with such a medley of thoughts 
that he was somewhat startled by the sudden address of 
some one who had come running after him. The sandy 
road had muffled his pursuer's footsteps, so that he was 
completely taken unawares by a voice exclaiming at his 

"Crackers and cheese! haow yaou do walk, mister!" 

It was Everybody's Sam and, nodding to him in assent 
to what the youth had said, he waited for him to state his 
errand, which he judged must be something of great 
moment from the way the other was breathing after his 
recent exertions. 

" 'Tain't yaou so much I wanter see 's 'tis t'other 
feller," declared Sam. ''But I wanter know if t'ain't 'bout 
time dad had 'em gravestones? I hev held my peace all 
this time, not a thing has been done." 

Free Newbegin, no doubt, would have very coolly 
demanded of the impatient youth if he was not aware that 
the stone cutter was already at work upon them, but 
Quiver lacked the cool effrontry of his associate, so he tried 
to apologize for the delay, when Sam broke in somewhat 

"He's had all the time he asked for. Folks air sayin' 
he won't never do it. Only Uncle Life says he will. 
Others say he owes more'n he can pay now, an' I'm tired 
of waitin'." 

"You had better see him, Sam. I am sure he will do 
it as soon as he can." 

"I daon't see no good in this waitin'. But here comes 
Miss Nat. Where can she be goin'?" 

In a moment Miss Newbegin overtook them, when she 
stopped to say: 

"I am going to see Sarah Gooseberry, Mr. Quiver, and 
as that is on your way to Mr. Goodwill's perhaps you will 
not object to riding with me. You can come, too, Sam, if 
you are going this way." 


But Sam was going back to the village and, leaving 
him standing in the road, Mr. Quiver took a seat by the 
side of Miss Newbegin, beginning to think that fate was 
very kind to him on this particular day. 

"The doctor is inclined to think that Sarah is very 
poorly, but Bim says it won't do for a doctor to call, though 
he is very much frightened himself. So the doctor wants 
me to see if I think there is any need of his calling against 
her wishes. Dr. Lamson is very kind and thoughtful, 
though I was intending to visit her this afternoon." . 

All too soon for Leonard Quiver did they come in 
sight of the little, weather-beaten cottage, over which hung 
an air of loneliness quite uncommon when the busy Sarah 
was moving about with her home duties. Her brother 
came out as they drove into the yard, looking uncommonly 
doleful, and in answer to Miss Newbegin 's question he 
merely shook his head, pointing toward the open door. 
Without loss of time she entered the dwelling, leaving Mr. 
Quiver to talk with Bim Gooseberry. She was pleased to 
find Sarah sitting up in her big, old-fashioned armchair, but 
was startled at the pallor of her countenance and the evi- 
dence of physical weakness of her body. At sight of her 
the other started up, but fell back into her chair with a 
moan of distress. 

"Why, Sarah, what is the trouble?" asked Miss New- 
begin, advancing to her side. 

"I'm poorly, Miss Nat, I am. Seems to me 's 'f 
this poor ol* buddy was worn out. I was jess tellin' Bim 
that I was not expectin' to see th' new snow come. Tears 
like 's I was like a leaf in th' fall. Th' minnit th' frost 
strikes it it falls. The frost has struck me." 

"Nonsense, Sarah! don't look so woe-begone. You 
will come out of this. All you need is a little tonic, a few 
weeks' rest, good courage, and you will come out your old 

"Yaou air very kind, gal, but it ain't to be. Iv'e doc- 
tored an' doctored, till I can see it's no good. I felt that I 


was failin' all summer. Bim couldn't see it. Of course he 
couldn't, bein" a man, but I could see it every time I looked 
in th' glass, an I could feel my strength goin' right away 
from me every step I took." 

"You say you have been doctoring, Sarah, whose medi- 
cine have you been taking?" 

"Land sakes, child, if yaou had asked me whose I 
hadn't I could have told you quicker. Why, I've taken 
some of th' very same medicine you tuk for your fever. 
Then I tuk some that Life Story tuk when he had th' 
ager; an' I have tuk some that Joe Worth's boy tuk for his 
cough; an' Bet Hays tuk for lame back; an' Sally Jones 
tuk for her stomach; but I can't begin to number 'em. 
Th* bottles air all on the shelf there, or in that chist in the 
corner. Medicine can't help me, gal. I've tried every- 
thing, an' I know. This ol' buddy is worn aout, an' I don't 
scurcely wonder, at th' work I've done." 

"I want to see some of the medicine you have been 
taking, Sarah. I didn't know you had been taking any of 
the medicine I took for my fever." 

"I have, child, jess 's I said. It was in that lot I 
bought at th' auction. I think Miss Temple mus' have 
got it, she was always very prudent." 

"I remember now about it. She did get it at my 
house. She was calling and, seeing that I was going to 
throw it away, she asked for it. It seemed a sort of mania 
with her to get all of the old medicine she could." 

"She had a whole box full and I bought the whole lot 
for twelve cents at th' auction," replied Sarah, her counte- 
nance brightening. "I remember how tired I got fetching 
it home. Seemed 's 'f I'd never git it here. But I begun 
next day to take some on't an' I have follered it up stiddily 
every day sence. But 'tain't no use. I've kept goin' 
daownth' hill. There ain't no stimulus or topic that can 
lift me up." 

During the latter part of this speech of the discour- 
aged invalid, Miss Newbegin was industriously overhauling 


the "medicine chist," the look of wonder and dismay deep- 
ening on her countenance until she finally rose to her feet, 

"Sarah Gooseberry, I do not wonder you are sick. 
The wonder is you are alive this minute. So you have been 
taking all of this medicine?" 

"Not all on't, Miss Nat. 'Em bottles at th' bottom 
I've purty nigh emptied. T'others I've been taking from, 
an' some on 'em has got enough to last me another month." 

"If you live as long as that, which I do not believe 
you will if you keep swallowing these various decoctions, 
taking them as they come. Excuse me if I spoke harshly. 
I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Sarah." 

Sarah was crying, but between her sobs and tears she 
managed to say: 

"I tuk 'em jess as they was labeled, an' one arter 
another they seemed to jess hit my case. I had rheu- 
matiz, an' there was a 'intment for that, an' a mixture to 
take inside. I had stomach pain, headache, dysentery, 
dizziness, lame side heart-burn, dry mouth, spasms, short 
breath, and the good Lord only knows what I didn't have. 
An' 'f there was any medicine there for anything I didn't 
have, I tuk it 's a sort of safeguard ag'in I might have it." 

"And undoubtedly you did have it in due season. 
Why, Sarah, in these empty bottles were drugs enough to 
kill you if you hadn't been uncommonly strong. Some 
were for internal and some for external use." 

"Lands alive, child! Is that so? I 'low my eyes ain't 
's good 's they were onc't. An' Bim, he weren' jess sure. 
What air you goin' to do, Miss Nat?" 

"I am going to have Bim take this box with all its 
bottles and packages and bury it so deep it will never be 
resurrected. Do not object if you value your life." 

Poor, helpless Sarah could only look on with a dejected 
air. Bim answered the call and a few minutes later was 
busy carrying out her orders, while Miss Newbegin was 
saying to Sarah 


"Now, Sarah, I am going to look after you, and first of 
all I want you to promise me that you will take no more 
medicine that I have not ordered for you." 

"I promise, child; but it does seem an awful waste to 
throw away all that medicine." 

"Better do that than throw away your life. If you 
will follow my treatment you will be out of doors again in 
a few weeks. First of all I am going to send you a bottle 
of elderberry wine, and you must take it as I direct." 

After seeing that her patient, as she called Sarah, was 
as comfortable as possible, Miss Newbegin left to go to her 
home, promising to send down the wine by Everybody's 
Sam. Meanwhile Leonard Quiver, who had overheard 
enough of this conversation to understand what was taking 
place, resumed his journey toward Deacon Goodwill's 

(Begun in the July, 1 906, number; to be continued) 

Granite ^tate 

An Acrostic 

By Charles M. Emerson 

<Oreat is thy name, O Granite State of mine, 
fiound Thee are gathered many sons of fame, 
Hnd tho' Thy crags may show the wear of time, 
J&ot time nor tide shall dim Thy deathless name. 
3n shadow of Thy hills or foreign clime 
'Chy sons and daughters' lips shall ever frame 
Eternal praise to Thee. Thou art Sublime! 

j&o long as sun or moon or stars shall shine, 
<3£hy granite peaks shall overtop the plain; 
Hs long as beacons beam across the brine, 
<^hy fame be wide as is the boundless main, 
Extending far on every side, and for all time. 

Cfje ebttor's t^tntiotn 

IHeboluttonarp £^tt£toner£ 

In connection with the publication of the Revolu- 
tionary Pension Declarations for Strafford county, it is 
interesting to note that the United States government 
printed, in 1820 and in 1835-36, the names of 120,000 pen- 
sioners, who were soldiers in the War for Independence. 
There names made four volumes and were grouped by 
counties in the several states that had representatives. 
The number for New Hampshire was 2,906. 

Again, in 1840, the government printed another pen- 
sion roll, the list this time having dropped to nearly 21,000 
men, of which 1,412 belonged to our state. 


J^oteg anb Queries 

"Are the sacred fires of India still burning?" asks a 
correspondent. At least one of them is, and that is among 
the most ancient, having been consecrated over twelve 
centuries ago in commemoration of the successful voyage 
performed by the Parsees against great odds when they 
journeyed from their old home in Persia to India. This fire 
is in a little village known as Udawada, where the descend- 
ants of the original builders visit in great numbers during 
the season when the genius of fire is supposed to hold 
domain over this element. The sacred blaze is kept alive 
by the faithful attention of watchmen, who have no other 
duty. Every fifth hour the fuel is replenished with very 
dry material, consecrated with the prayer of some priest 
and rendered fragrant with sandal wood. It is claimed 
this fire has never been allowed to die out. It is also 
claimed by the Japanese, and they seem to have good proof, 
that they have a perpetual fire older than even this burning 
on the altar of the Parsees. 


editor's window 111 

Cfje Ha£t pensioner of tfje devolution 

Mrs. Esther Sumner Damon, the last surviving widow 
of a Revolutionary soldier, died recently at her home in 
Plymouth Union, Vt., aged ninety-two years. She would 
have passed her last days in poverty had it not been for the 
accidental discovery of her condition two years ago by the 
members of Pales-Rollo Chapter, Daughters of the Ameri- 
can Revolution, of Wallingford. The society got a bill 
through the legislature, giving her two hundred dollars for 
her support. Each chapter in the state was induced to 
contribute one dollar a month during the balance of the old 
lady's life, and congress doubled her pension of twelve dol- 
lars. She was made a Daughter of the American Revolu- 
tion, her grandfather having been a Revolutionary soldier. 

Noah Damon, her husband, enlisted at Milton, Mass., 
April 19, 1775, and served five years. He was pensioned 
at the age of eighty-nine years, while living at Plainfield, 
N. H. When the couple was married at Bridge water, 
September 6, 1835, he was seventy-five and she was twenty- 
one years of age. 

Esther Sumner Damon, an own cousin of Charles 
Sumner, was born at Bridgewater, Vt., August 1, 18 14. 
Left fatherless and without resources at the age of eight, 
she determined to win for herself an education, and she 
accomplished her purpose by working out summers and 
attending the village schools in the winter. At the age of 
seventeen she began to teach a little school in the hamlet 
of Plymouth Union. When twenty-one years of age, she 
met Noah Damon, a veteran of the Revolution, and two 
weeks from the first meeting they were married, in spite 
of the fact that he was seventy-six and she just turned 
twenty-one. Damon was a penniless man, and in his 
declining days a burden to his young wife. For three 
years she worked at everything, only to find that her small 
savings of other years had melted away under the pitiless 
tax of a meager existence. Then she suggested that her 

112 editor's window 

aged partner join his daughter in New Hampshire, in 
whose home he died two years later. 

During the succeeding years of her life she supported 
herself by sewing and nursing the sick, her scant income 
being supplemented "by a pension of eighty dollars a year. 
This was increased to twelve dollars a month a score of 
years since, but the scant forty cents a day was all too 
small to support the old woman. 

Utterarp Heabes 

Wayeeses, the White Wolf. By William J. Long. Illustrated 
by Charles Copeland. Cloth, i2mo., gilt top, illustrations and page orna- 
mentations, 172 pages. Ginn and Company, Boston and London. Price, 
$1 net. For sale in Manchester by Goodman. 

Without entering into the discussion originating with the President 
and the author, which has given the work a more effectual advertising 
than the mere display of cold type conld do, we can say that it is issued 
in elegant dress. The marginal drawings are beautiful and expressive, not 
to mention the colored frontispiece, showing the speaking likeness of the 
redoubtable gray wolf, and the five full-page pictures that follow. The 
story has been reprinted from ''Northern Trails," really in demand to the 
call the President's attack has given it. Dr. Long has written a preface, 
containing some of his arguments in defence of his position, which lends 
additional interest to the work. The author remarks that "the critic who 
asserts dogmatically what a wild animal will or will not do under certain 
conditions only proves how carelessly he has watched them and how little 
he has learned of nature in infintie variety." While we are prone to 
believe that this "nature fad" or "study" has been carried to an extreme 
and much that has been written in that line had better have been unwritten, 
yet we had rather it had all been said than that it all should have remained 
without a delineator. The life story of this Newfoundland wolf, as Dr. 
Long has told it in his vivid manner, makes very interesting reading, and 
withal so plausible that one with a sincere regard for nature, and a 
capacity to appreciate the possibilities that lie in the realm of improba- 
bility, can appreciate it. We believe the President has done an uninten- 
tional good where he had hoped to check an evil. 

Boys of the Bordkr, the third volume of the "Old Deerfield 
Series" of stories for young people, by Mary P. Wells Smith, will be pub- 
lished by Little, Brown & Company in the fall. The period is that of the 
French and Indian War, from 1746 to 1755, and the story relates leading 
events in the Deerfield valley during those stirring times. 


• t f.,\ 




^'- ff«l. 




ft -4. 

r< ri ■ ■ 



$eto Cfampstfjtre 

By J. Q. A. Woods 

The author of this stirring poem was the eldest son of Col. Eliphalet 
Wood of Loudon, and was born in Chichester, N. H., February- S, 1S15. 
When he was sixteen his father emigrated to Tecumseh, Mich., but he 
was sent back to his native state to complete his preparatory collegiate 
course at New London, in companionship with his brother William H. 
They entered Dartmouth College in 1839, but at the close of their junior 
year changed to Union College, N. Y., where they graduated in 1S43. 
While his brother returned to Tecumseh to take his law course, Quincy 
became a law student in the office of Pierce and Fowler, Concord. He 
was admitted to the bar in 1S46. Quincy and William married sisters. 
respectively, Emily Maria and Julia A. A., daughters of Mr. Ezekiel Sar- 
gent of New London, N. H. Quincy began the practice of law in Ann 
Arbor, Mich., but after the death of his wife, in 1S54, he removed to Sauk 
Rapids, Minn., and later went to Owensboro, Ky., where he married a sec- 
ond time, an accomplished lady by the name of Mrs. Mary E. Johnson, who 
owned a handsome estate. He became editor of The Southern Kentucky 
Shield, but the threatening storm of the Rebellion finally compelled him 
to abandon his paper. At the close of the war he went back to Sauk 
Rapids, where he resumed the practice of law, dying a few years since. He 
wrote with a fluent pen. The following poem was written in the heat of 
the coming on of the great battle and included two stanzas relating to the 
grim situation which it is thought best to omit here. — Editor. 

^k AIL, land of the Mountain Dominion! 
^ Uplifting thy crest to the day, 
C Where the eagle is bathing his pinion 

In clouds that are rolling away, 
O say, from the Pilgrim descended, 

Who trampled on Albion's crown, 
Shall we, by thy cataracts splendid, 

Refuse thee a wreath of renown — 
A wreath of renown from thy evergreen bough, 
Entwined with the oak that adorneth thy brow? 


NEW HAMPSHIRE 114 - &!< 

What though, on the mountain that bore us, 

The fern in her loneliness waves? 
Our forefathers tilled them before us, 

And here will we dwell by their graves; 
And beloved of thy blue-eyed daughters, 

Ever true to the brave and the free, 
We'll drink of the gush of thy waters, 

That leap in the sun to the sea. 
Huzza to the rocks and glens of the North! v 
Huzza to the torrents that herald them forth! 

Peace to us is evermore singing 

Her songs on thy mountains of dew, 
While still at our altars are swinging 

The swords that our forefathers drew. 
But O, may we never unsheath them 

Again where the carnage awaits, 
But to our descendants bequeath them 

To hang upon Liberty's gates, 
Encircled with garlands, as blades that were drawn 
By the hosts of the Lord, that have conquered and gone! 

All hail to thee, Mountain Dominion! 

Whose flag on the cloud is unrolled, 
Where the eagle is straining his pinion, 

And dipping his plumage in gold, 
We ask for no hearts that are truer, 

No spirits more gifted than thine, 
No skies that are warmer or bluer, 

Than dawn on thy hemlock and pine. 
Ever pure are the breezes that herald thee forth, 
Green land of my father! thou Rock of the North! 

•-- piinjgLjuuisf 


«* -,- ail^^^li^SS^ 

OSramte ^tate /HBagajine 

Vol. IV. SEPTEMBER, 1907. No. 3. 

Hiterarp ^s^octattonsi of tfje $&tx- 
rtmacfc Cxtber 


By George Waldo Browne 

VOID would be left in the literary associations of 
the Merrimack was the memory of that gifted 
worshiper of the White Hills, Starr King,* for- 
gotten. To his pen more than all others, the kings of 
northern mountains, 

"Discoursing like sentinels to the sky," 

owe their immortality in literature. "He discovered them 

♦Thomas Starr King was born in New York city December 24, 1824, 
the oldest child of Thomas F. King, an eloquent minister in the Universa- 
list church. The father, distinguished in his day by his fervid apostolic 
style of preaching, after several years of service in Hudson and New York, 
was settled in Portsmouth, N. H., but died in Charleston, Mass. Left at 
the age of twelve, the sole dependence of his widowed mother, who had 
five children younger than he, Thomas Starr King was a self-educated, 
self-placed man. He entered upon his line of duty with that joyous sense 
of power which characterized his brilliant but brief career. In September, 
1845, ne preached his first sermon at Woburn, Mass. Never strong, at 
twenty-three he was broken in health, For twelve years as pastor, preacher, 
lecturer, literary man and social factor, he gave the best he had to that 
city, so fortunate in its heritage of admirable men. During those years 
he sought regularly the clear, bracing atmosphere of the White Hills, 
which he grew to love so well, there to retain with that undiscovered 
vitality known to few of frail bodies his fleeting physical power. 
Finally he felt obliged to seek the milder climate of California, where he 
died of diphtheria March 4, 1864, in his fortieth year. — Editor. 



in their pristine glory; he left them in a halo of revealed 
light." And these mountains are the birthplace of our 
river. 'Mid its crags and cliffs it was born, and if it 
spurned with childish wantonness its mother, it carried 
with it to the sea her memory, her songs of freedom. The 
poet dreams this when he declares in faultless measure: 

I feel the cool breath of the North 

Between me and the sun, 
O'er deep, still lake and ridgy earth, 

I saw the cloud shades run. 
Before me, stretched for glistening miles, 

Lay mountain-girdled Squam; 
Like green-winged birds the leafy isles 

Upon its bosom swam. 

And, glimmering through the sun-haze warm, 

Far as the eye could roam, 
Dark billows of an earthquake storm, 

Beflecked with clouds like foam, 
Their vales in misty shadow deep, 

Their rugged peaks in shine, 
I saw the mountain ranges sweep 

The horizon's northern line. 

There towered Chocorua's peak; and west, 

Moosilauke's woods were seen, 
With many a nameless slide-scarred crest 

And pins-dark gorge between. 
Beyond them, like a sun-rimmed cloud, 

The great Notch mountains shone, 
Watched over by the solemn browed 

And awful face of stone. 

Well did Stirling say, gazing upon such a landscape as 
borders the matchless Merrimack: 

I looked upon a plain of green, 

That some one called the Land of Prose, 

Where many living things are seen, 
In movement or repose. 

I looked upon a stately hill 
That well was named the Mount of Song, 

Where golden shadows wait at will 
The woods and streams among. 

, ■ 


But most this fact my wonder bred, 

Though known by all the nobly wise, 
It was the mountain streams that fed 

The fair green plain's amenities. 

Following the winding Pemigewasset, the main branch 
of the Merrimack 

By beechen shadows, whitening down its rocks, 

he says: 

"The valley is broader than that of the upper Saco, 
and the hills do not huddle around the road; the distances 
are more artistic, and the lights and shades have better 
chance to weave their more subtle witchery upon the dis- 
tant mountains that bar the vision — upon the whaleback of 
Moosilauke and the crags and spires that face each other 
in the Franconia Notch. The picture of the Pemigewaset 
is one of prominent pleasure. . . . How briskly it cuts its 
way in sweeping curves through the luxuriant fields of 
Campton, and with what pride it is watched for miles of 
its wanderings by the Welch mountain completely filling 
the background, from which its tide seems to be pouring, 
and upon whose shoulders, perhaps, the clouds are busily 
dropping fantastic shawls of shadows! In this part of its 
course, the river is scarcely less free than it was in the 
days which Whittier alludes to in his noble apostrophe to 
the Merrimack: 

Oh, child of that white-crested mountain whose springs 
•Gush forth in the shade af the cliff eagle's wings, 
Down whose slopes to the lowlands thy wild waters shine, 
Leaping gray walls of rock, flashing through the dwarf pine. 

From that cloud-curtained cradle so cold and so lone, 
From the arms of that wintry-locked mother of stone; 
By hills hung with forests, through vales wide and free, 
Thy mountain-born brightness glanced down to the sea. 

No bridge arched thy waters save that where the trees 
Stretched their long arms above thee, and kissed in the breeze: 
No sound save the lapse of the waves on thy shores, 
The plunging of otters, the light dip of oars. 



Mr. Nathaniel Berry, in his "Last of the Penacooks," 
gives us some pleasant insights into the story of man and 
river, and added his share to the literature of the valley 
and its people. A native of Pittsfield, the author knew 
whereof he spoke in describing scenery, while his imagina- 
tion flew a felicitous arrow in its flights. The book has 
become far too scarce, and I have yet to see a third copy, 
though it was published in recent years and by a house 
that only a short time since ceased to publish. 

Two authors of local repute, Messrs. Samuel D. Lord 
and William E. Moore, added their part to the scientific 
knowledge of the river's natural features, not to mention 
the researches of Professor Hitchcock. 

Mr. Francis B. Eaton, in his "Story of Lake Massa- 
besic," gives us happy insights into the beautiful biography 
of that charming sheet of water known to the dusky 
seekers after eternal light as "The Eyes of the Sky." 
This historian waxes eloquent over his subject in a descrip- 
tion which happily associates the past with the present. 
"Connecting the white-sanded beaches shores extend, piled 
high with boulders indicative of oldtime storms and winds, 
echoes of which to this day greet the luckless voyager who 
happens to be out in his frail canoe or cranky sailboat. 
Wooded slopes run down to the water's edge, luxuriant 
vines cluster on fine old trees, the wild grape perfumes the 
autumn groves. Only the other day the bear found his 
favorite high blueberry in sheltered dells; wild geese rested 
here in their long flights hither and yon, and great flocks 
of ducks found free ports of entry in many a safe retreat. 
Deer browsed in the surrounding forests; the lordly loon 
trumpeted his defiance in the lee of his chosen island, or 
disappeared with lightning celerity at the crack of the rifle 
Acres of flooded marshlands furnished feeding ground for 
perch or pickerel. Alewives crowded in shoals up the 
Cohas in the season, and suckers abounded when the win- 
der snows moved off." 

Mrs. Harriet Prescott Spofford,' who was pleased to 


hy the scenes of one of her most famous stories upon its 
shores, says: "Among the lakes of New Hampshire there 
is one of extreme beauty. A broad, shadowy water some 
nine miles in length, with steep, thickly wooded shores, 
and here and there, as if moored on its calm surface, an 
island, fit for a bower of bliss." 

The poetess, Mrs. Clara B. Heath, who lived near its 
beautiful shore for several years, has given us some of her 
gems of verse in connection with these twin bodies of 

Two broad blue bays that stretch out east and west, 

Dotted with fairy isles of living green, 
And midway where the waters seem to rest 

In narrow bed, two curving shores between, 
A time-worn bridge that long has stood the test 

Of stormy winds and restless tides is seen. 

The outlet of this lake, Cohas brook, is one of the 
most fortunate tributaries of the Merrimack. 

No sweeter tribute to the noble river of which we 
write has been paid it than the poem of Mr. Allen East- 
man Cross, "At the Falls of Namoskeag."* 

Three souls shall meet in our gracious river, 
The soul of the mountains, staunch and free 

The soul of the Indians' "Lake of the Spirit," 
And the infinite soul of the shining sea. 

Mr. Nathan Hale, who thought best to sign himself 
"A Gentleman from Boston," has left us a felicitous 
account of an "Excursion to Winnipiseogee." Its title 
page bears the date of 1833, and as an example of quiet 
humor and purity of expression it is difficult to find its 
equal in this day of Kipling and Londonarian literature 
(save the mark!). After describing the beginning of his 
journey, Mr. Hale goes on to say: 

"Noon brought us to Haverhill, on the north bank of 
the Merrimack, a town no less beautiful from its natural, 

♦This poem was given entire, printed upon one of our linen inserts- 
pages 97-104, Volume I. — Editor. 


situation than from the aspect of its buildings. Its antiqui- 
ties and history afford some tragical, and many romantic, 
incidents for the embellishment of future novels and the 
catastrophies of future dramatic compositions. The sack 
of the town by the Indians and French in 1708, the heroic 
conduct of Mrs. Dustin, the sagacity and address of Hagar 
the slave, in secreting the two infants, and many other 
events which are yet fresh in tradition, narrated with truth 
and embellished with the colors of an imagination that 
could remigrate a century and a half, would be as interest- 
ing as it would be novel. 

I dislike historical romances even from the pen of 
Florian, because they confound history. But those whose 
bodies are real, and where dress only is fanciful, like the 
historical plays of Shakespeare, personify the age, assist 
our conceptions of character and actions, and bring the 
very fashions and pressure of the times home to our 

After dining at the hotel, we stopped the stage on the 
Exeter road to receive Mr. \V., who was to conduct us to 
the White Hills but, not being ready, he promised to join 
us to-morrow. 

While the horses stopped to bait, after we left , 

curiosity prompted me to look at the unwashed cheeks of 
Mrs. . Thirty-seven years had elapsed since a beauti- 
ful girl of fifteen sat on the knee of Washington at . 

A kiss of Washington could not leave a spot on the charriest 
maiden's cheek, and if it had it would always be considered 
a beauty spot which no fair one would erase. As Wash- 
ington passed to New Hampshire, he was conducted 
through this route, to be present at the wedding of his sec- 
retary, Mr. Lear. 

People of each sex and all ages flocked from every 
part of the country to see him. Two beautiful girls went 
on the day previous to their relative's, where he was to 
lodge, in order to see the reputed Father of his Country. 
After the evening levee was ended, they were introduced, 


with reference, by their jolly relation, to the visit of the 
queen of a far distant country to see the glory of Israel. 
Their modest, gentle and affectionate carriage exceedingly 
gratified the General and engaged his attention. Nothing 
tends more to social intercourse than the performance of 
some little favor. One of Washington's gloves had a rip — 
one of the girls, without speaking, took it up, repaired it 
and silently put it on the sofa. Washington observed the 
act and, instead of complimenting, took her hand and drew 
her towards him and impressed a kiss on her cheek. All 
this was a movement of the heart on the part of both. 
She declared she would never wash that spot; and I could 
not help thinking, as I looked upon her, that the rosy blush 
had not been impaired by time, and that like the immortal 
amaranth it retained its freshness and beauty, fed by the 
"sweet contentment of her thoughts." 

The brightest links in the literature of the Merrimack 
are formed by that gifted trio, Thoreau, Emerson, Whit- 
tier, and it were sufficient that a river should have these. 

Among the prose writers Thoreau* has left us the 
most imperishable monument in his "Week upon the Con- 
cord and Merrimack River." To us it seems enough that 
he should have written this, in some respects his master- 
piece. Following his happy introduction he goes on to say: 

"We were thus entering the state of New Hampshire 
on the bosom of the flood formed by the tribute of its 
innumerable valleys. The river was the only key which 

•Henry David Thoreau was born in Concord, Mass., July 12, 1817, 
aud died where he had lived the last few years of his life, in the old- 
fashioned dwelling known as the Thoreau- Alcott house, May 6, 1S62. 
Filled with an extraordinary love for nature he devoted his life to its 
study. Believing in prudent and economical living, he sought to prove 
his theory, and built a hut upon the shore of Walden pond, where he 
lived for two years and about which he wove the threads of his most 
famous book, " -rValden, or Life in the Woods." The primitive dwelling 
has gone the way of its builder, but its site is marked with a cairn of 
stones, growing like his reputation as the years go by with stone upon 
stone added by admiring visitors to the hallowed spot. — Editor. 


could unlock its maze, presenting its hills and valleys, its 
lakes and streams, in their natural order and position. The 
Merrimack, or Sturgeon, river, is formed by the confluence 
of the Pemigewasset, which rises near the Notch of the 
White Mountains, and the Winnepisiogee, which drains 
the lake of the same name, signifying "The Smile of the 
Great Spirit." From their junction it runs south seventy- 
eight miles to Massachusetts, and thence east thirty-five 
miles to the sea. I have traced its stream from where it 
bubbles out of the rocks of the White Mountains above 
the clouds, to where it is lost amid the salt billows of the 
ocean on Plum Island Beach. At first it comes on mur- 
muring to itself by the base of stately and retired moun- 
tains, through moist primitive woods whose juices it 
receives, where the bear still drinks it, and the cabins of 
settlers are far between, and there are few to cross its 
stream; enjoying in solitude its cascades still unknown to 
fame; by long ranges of mountains of Sandwich and of 
Squam, slumbering like tumuli of Titans, with the peaks 
of Moosehillock, the Haystack and Kearsarge reflected in 
its waters; where the maple and the raspberry, those lovers 
of the hills, flourish amid temperate dews; — flowing long 
and full of meaning, but untranslatable as its name Pemige- 
wasset, by many a pastured Pelion and Ossa, where 
unnamed muses haunt, tended by Oreads, Dryads, Naiads, 
and receiving the, tribute of many an untasted Hippocrene. 
There are earth, air, fire, and water, — very well, this is 
water, and down it comes. 

Such water do the gods distil, 
And pour down every hill 

For their New England men; 
A draught of this wild nectar bring. 
And I'll not taste the spring 

Of Helicon again. 




nX thx 




Cocfjeco's; "Snbtan $tgf)t" 

A Sketch of the Waldron Massacre 
By Harold D. Carew 

i^JlT HAS been claimed, as a thrust at her military 
^JJ record, that no man fell on New Hampshire soil 
during the French and Indian and Revolutionary 
Wars. While this is true the Granite State had her share 
of aboriginal warfare all through the dark and trying 
periods of the earlier struggles with the desperate red 
men. First and prominent among these was the frightful 
surprise given the garrison under that veteran man of 
arms, Major Waldron, of which the following sketch is a 
brief resume of the scene of horror, taken mainly from 
Belknap's New Hampshire. 

Early in the fall of 1676, while the Indians of Canada 
were hammering away at the northern frontier settlements 
of New Hampshire, the renewal of hostilities along the 
Pascataqua River from Cocheco to Kittery in Maine occa- 
sioned the Alliance of Massachusetts to send out two 
companies under Capt. Joseph Lyll and William Haw- 
thorne with orders to arrest all Indians who were in any 

The following explanatory notes refer to the plan of Cocheco in 1689, 
given on the opposite page : 
A. Otis' Garrison. 

1. Waldron's Garrison. 

2. John Ham's house, 1825. 

3. Heard's Garrison, on Little's, afterwards Garrison, Hill, which has 
been since cut down. 

4. Varney's Hill, often improperly called Garrison Hill. 

5. Varney's House, still standing. (See Granite State Maga- 
zine for June.) 

6. Coffin's Garrison. 

The plan has been taken from Drake's Book of the Indians, Author's 
Edition. — Editor. 



way concerned in the recent uprisings, and who were 
known to have killed any Englishmen in that part of the 

Having set out on their expedition in the middle of 
the summer, they came in the course of their march to 
Cocheco, on the fifth of September, where they found 
four hundred Indians assembled at the garrison of Major 
Waldron, with whom Wonolanset and his Penacook tribes 
had made peace, and in whom they confided as their brother 
and defender. The captains would have swooped down 
upon the Red Men immediately but for the interference of 
Waldron, who suggested the following strategem: 

He said that the Penacooks had proven themselves 
true to the treaty which had been signed previous to the 
massacres and invasions; that the Indians who were con- 
cerned in the wars had come to their brethren in New 
Hampshire for protection; and that if the strange Indians, 
as they were called, were to be taken, Wonolanset and his 
men would have to be taken also, and a separation made 
after the capture. He therefore proposed to the Indians 
that they have a sham battle the next day, to which pro- 
posal they all readily consented. 

Waldron having summoned his men with those of 
Captain Frost of Kittery, together with the forces of Lyll 
and Hawthorne, they constituted one side and the Indians 
the other. By a peculiar contrivance, the English sur- 
rounded their opponents, after having allowed them to fire 
' the first volley. A separation was then made. Wonolan- 
set and his men were released while the strange Indians, 
to the number of two hundred, were taken to Boston, 
where seven or eight of their leaders were condemned and 
hanged and the rest sold as slaves in foreign lands. The 
colonies applauded the men for their valor, but the Indians 
considered it treachery and, though Waldron did not know 
it, he sealed his fate on that day. 

Thirteen years passed, the call of defence was often 
heard through the province, the massacre and plundering 


wept on, still the revenge of the red foe was not accom- 

In that part of the settlement of Cocheco which lies 
about the first falls of the Pascataqua River were five 
garrisons: three on the north side — Waldron's, Otis' and 
Heard's; and two on the south side — Peter Coffin's and his 
son's. Surrounded by high timber walls, and securely 
fastened by bolts and bars, the houses afforded a safe refuge 
for all families who were subjected to an attack from the 
enemy. But by negligence, no watch was kept by night or 
day, and the Indians who were constantly passing through 
the town, visiting and trading, as was common in time 
of peace, watched the movements around the garrisons 

The plan preconcerted for the execution of their 
revenge was in keeping with their method of warfare. 
Two squaws were to go to each of the houses and apply for 
a lodging. The doors were to be unbolted by them when 
all had retired. Then at a signal the massacre was to 
begin. Accordingly, on the night of Thursday, the twenty- 
fifth of June, 1689, the squaws applied for admission to the 
houses and were admitted to all except the younger Cof- 
fins'. They were shown, at their own request, how to open 
the doors in case they should have occasion to go out dur- 
ing the night. 

Mesandowit, one of the chiefs, was entertained at the 
major's, and while at supper he said, "Brother Waldron, 
what would you do if the strange Indians should come to- 

"I can assemble an hundred men by lifting my finger," 
answered the soldier. 

Thus suspecting no harm from their treacherous 
guests, the people retired to rest after covering the coals on 
the hearth. 

About midnight, when all was quiet, the gates were 
opened, the signal given, and the Indians rushed in, set a 
guard at the door and entered the major's room. Aroused 


by the noise, he jumped out of bed and, though past 
eighty, he drove the intruders back into the kitchen; but, 
while returning for his other arms, he was struck on the 
head by a hatchet. Dragging him to the hallway, his assail- 
ants seated him in a large, old-fashioned chair and placed 
him on a table, asking, "Who shall judge Indians now?" 
They then compelled the people to prepare a meal and, 
when they had finished, each one cut him across the breast 
and abdomen, saying, "I cross out my account." Cutting 
off his nose and ears, they forced them into his mouth and, 
when he was falling from loss of blood, one of them placed 
the major's own sword under him, thus ending his misery. 
They also killed his son-in-law, Abraham Lee, and, taking 
several others as captives, pillaged the house and burned 
it. Otis' garrison met the same fate. He was killed and 
his wife and children taken into captivity. Heard's garri- 
son was saved by the barking of a dog, while Coffin's was 
spared, as the Indians had no enmity toward him. Pro- 
ceeding to the house of the younger Coffin, they summoned 
him to surrender but he refused; they then took his father 
out, threatening to kill him if the command was not obeyed. 
The gates were immediately thrown open to the enemy. 

Twenty-three people were killed at this surprisal and 
twenty-nine taken prisoners. After burning five or six 
houses, several barns and a mill, the invaders left the scene 
of devastation. They had accomplished the long-meditated 
revenge, whose record remains a dark memorial in the his- 
tory of New Hampshire. 

Co the Virgin M^V 

By Harry Leavitt Perham 

Thou art my Muse, the author of my dreams. 
'Raptured my soul, if on me brightly beams 
Thy smile benign, exquisite, tender, rare; 
It banishes my doubts, dispels my care 
And from a world of deep despair and pain 
Transports me to a realm of joy again. 


A Plain Tale of Plain People, Some of Whom You May Have 

Known, All of Whom Lived a Third of a Century Ago 

By George Waldo Browne 

[Copyright, 1906, by the Author] 
What shadows we are and what shadows we pursue ! — Burke. 



The cloak of charity should fall 

On every one we know, 
As softly as to earth comes down 

The newly fallen snow. 

— Shirley. 

BOUT the time of this scene at the humble home 
of Sarah Gooseberry, an affair of equal interest 
and greater excitement was taking place at Deacon 
Goodwill's farmhouse. He had barely returned from the 
hearing at the Center, in no very enviable frame of mind, 
as might naturally be expected, when he was both surprised 
and angered at the appearance of the town claimant. The 
last came on foot but appeared spotless of dirt, as if he had 
not walked far along a country road. He had in fact been 
brought by his team to within a short distance of his stop- 

"Never see th' beat of him fer downright imperdence," 
exclaimed Mr. Goodwill in an undertone. "Mebbe he 
thinks I'm goin' to harbor an' feed him right erlong; but I'm 
jess goin' to set my foot down, an' I'm goin' to keep it 
down, too!" 



Thus, as he met the other at the door, he said with 
such sternness as he could muster: 

"Onlessyeou pay me what yeou owe me I ain't goin' to 
let you inter my house ag'in. Here I've been a-feedin' an' 
a-coddlin' yeou an' that good-fer-nothin' scallywag wi' yer, 
an' what do I git fer it? Th' cussin's of th' town, 't's what 
I git. Neow I'm done on't." 

"I'm sorry to have to part company with you, Deacon," 
replied the other, as if replying to an apology made by the 
other rather than a bitter speech against him; "but if you 
say so, why of course I will go. As I come to think of it, 
I think I had better go. Of course I can see it puts you 
in a bad light with the citizens of the town, and I have no 
desire to injure your good name. Let me come in and get 
my little trunk, or you can toss it out of the window. I 
am pretty good at catching, and I will risk its reaching the 

"How erbout my pay, Mister Bidwell?" 

"All in good time, my dear Deacon. I did think of 
paying you to-night, but if I take my horse with me, as of 
course you will expect me to, I am afraid I shall not be 
able to meet the small matter of our board. But I will see 
that it is paid soon." 

"Yeou're hoss?" repeated the deacon, in evident sur- 

"Yes, old Bet. You know I was to pay you two hun- 
dred dollars for her, after allowing you to keep her a month 
to finish your work. The month is now up." 

"But — I didn't think — I — I sorter wanted Abe to go 
over to Willey's Falls with grist to-morrow. It'll be a 
great disappointment to me to let her go to-day.' 

To-morrow would be Thursday, the day of the great 
race at Coldbrook, a fact which Free Newbegin was not 
long in grasping, and along with it came a brilliant idea 
by which to reach his ends. Accordingly he said: 

"That's all right, my good Deacon. Keep her to-mor- 
row, and let Abe go to mill with her. It won't hurt her a 


bit, for I know Abe is a careful driver. I would advise 
you to let him take an early start." 

"Jess my idee," replied the deacon, rubbing his hands 
in his exuberance of spirits. "Abe is a keerfui driver, an' 
th' mare will be the better fer the goin\ Come right in 
to dinner, Mr. Bidwell for I hear mother callin' us." 

So another delay was made in the time of settlement, 
the claimant improving the first opportunity to apprize 
Abe of the good fortune that had fallen them. 

"Willey's mill is right on your way to Coldbrook, if I 
am not mistaken, and all you have to do is to drive over to 
the fair while your grist is being ground. So you see every- 
thing at this end of the route plays right into your hand. 
There is one thing you forgot to do, and that was to make 
your entry in the list. I was over that way, and so I took 
the responsibility to represent you." 

"Crickets! I hadn't thaought of that," replied Abe. 
"Yeou've done me a turn I shan't forget. I expect it will 
be a great time." 

"It will be in more ways than one. But I want to put 
you on your guard in regard to a matter which you should 
understand at the outset. 'Forwarned is forearmed,' you 
know. There is a movement afoot to keep you out of the 
race, for a few have got wind of what you are trying to do 
and think to balk you at the beginning. In this case your 
only hope will be with Squire Newbegin. He has a horse 
entered, and a good one, but he will see that you have fair 
play, if you go to him before it is too late." 

Abe's countenance showed marked concern as he 
listened to the words of his friend, but it gradually light- 
ened as he neared the end. 

"I am glad you told me," he said. "I think the squire 
will help me. He has been very friendly. Here comes 
your friend," and Abe went into the house. 

Free Newbegin had already seen his associate ascend- 
ing the hill, and he went forward to meet him, asking, as 
the other came near: 


"What news, old boy?" 

"There is a storm brewing, and it looks so we were in 
for a hard time. How is it with you?" 

"As serene as the sky of Naples, though, come to 
think of it, that simple-minded Jew who over-bid me on 
the Temple place is going to cap the climax of his folly by 
trying to raise Cain with me for making him pay so much 
for the farm. I laughed in his face; impolite I know, but 
I could express my feelings in no other way so well. I 
never told him, nor any one else, there was gold on the 
place. In fact, I never believed there was, and it is prov- 
ing beyond argument that the whole thing is a hoax. But, 
come, your dinner is getting cold. Oh, I forgot to tell you 
that the deacon and I have had another tilt, and the feast 
is to follow." 

"I did not expect you back so soon," said his com- 
panion. "What have you done with that big lawyer? He 
fairly frightened the town's people." 

"Ha — ha — ha! I laughed in my sleeve all through the 
farce. Leonard Quiver, our case is as good as won." 

"How have you managed to pay so great a lawyer?" 

"Pay him? Didn't. you know big men were just as 
cheap as small men? I mean big men physically. It made 
a grand outing for him, and he is happy over his experience 
and wants to come again. As for me, well, I can't com- 
plain. His clothes were borrowed, and for his wit he didn't 
need any as long as he kept still and looked wise. The 
turnout cost me an even ten dollars, and I paid him two 
dollars a day. Both were worth their hire." 

"So he was no great lawyer after all?" 

"Lawyer? Blackstone is an unknown name to him. 
It wasn't a lawyer we wanted. How much good did that 
weazened Wilcox do them? It was just such a man as we 
had that we needed, some one who by his very ponderosity 
to bring terror to them. I think our brick-layer filled the 
bill to brimming measure. Go eat your dinner and we will 
look at our new possession,for it is as good as our possession." 


While that was an anxious day to many, nothing of 
sufficient interest to call for description occurred. Abe 
Goodwill gave old Bet a careful grooming over night, in 
readiness for his early start the following morning, stop- 
ping to whisper in her ear time and again his hopes and his 

"Win, old Bet, and I shall graduate from Coe's Acad- 
emy; lose, and I must settle daown here in ignerence, and 
be contented I suppose. My! haow they'll stick aout their 
eyes when we come back with flying colors." 

Abe retired early that evening, so as to be promptly 
on hand the following morning, and it is safe to say he 
slept very little that night. In his anxiety lest he should 
oversleep he was up to look at the tall kitchen clock a little 
past ten, to creep back into his bed, vexed that he should 
have anticipated any signs of morning light at that hour; 
but at half-past eleven he was again astir; again at one 
o'clock; at a quarter of two, and finally half an hour later 
he dressed and went to the barn to give Bet a feeding of 
hay and four quarts of oats. An hour later he was on his 
way, Free Newbegin having risen to see him start, bestow- 
ed upon him his good wishes for his success. 

A little after eight o'clock Deacon Goodwill went 
down to the village to consult with some of the leading 
citizens in regard to the best course to pursue at the town 
meeting, which was set to take place on Saturday at ten 
o'clock. Then he learned, to his intense surprise, that Abe 
had gone to the races at Coldbrook. A little later in the 
day he was told that Abe had entered Bet for the races. 

At first he angrily rejected the claim, but gradually 
the truth was impressed upon his mind, and as it gained 
ground his anger grew accordingly. He came home an 
hour earlier than he had intended, like a kettle on a hot 
stove, boiling over with his pent-up rage. In this unenvi- 
able state of mind he stormed about the house, looking 
earnestly, ever and anon, down the hill for a sight of his 
disobedient son, until the darkness became too great for 


him to see across the yard. Still he stood, almost contin- 
ually now, looking and hearkening with strained sense, 
occasionally breaking forth into a torrent of words. It was 
a period of agony for him, to say nothing of his family. 

That morning Freeland Newbegin started down the 
road leading to Sunset, moving at a slow gait, as if absorbed 
in deep meditation. As a matter of fact his mind was busy 
with the reflections of his experiences since his return to 
Foxcraft. In spite of his rather exciting undertakings, it 
all seemed like a dream to him. Everything appeared so 
unreal, so unsatisfactory. As far as he had been able to 
learn no one had recognized him except Mary Temple and 
his father, and the latter's refusal to acknowledge his 
identity was worse than the ignorance of the others. But 
the sharpest pain which had come to him had arisen from 
his hopeless meetings with Mary Temple. In spite of 
the years which had slipped away during his absence 
abroad, he found that he loved her as devotedly as upon 
the day when he had left her in a moment of anger, 

It was a beautiful morning, the gold of early autumn 
touching softly the birches that fringed the highway, while 
from a distant wild cherry a blue jay made the welkin ring 
with its saucy cry. Somehow the note of the bird found 
a responsive echo in his heart, and before he knew it he 
was humming the air of a gypsy verse which he had picked 
up in his travels through Russia. A strange mood indeed 
for a lover to meet his sweetheart of other days. But he 
had barely finished the last note, and he was about to 
repeat the wild expression of a care-free nature, when he 
found that he had reached the turn in the road where it 
passed the home of Mary Temple. Ay, at that moment 
she was rapidly coming toward him without apparently dis- 
covering his close proximity. 

They had approached to within a few yards, when she 
suddenly noticed him and paused, with a look of fright 
upon her countenance, which, however, quickly changed to 
an expression of joy. 


"Don't be alarmed, Mary! it is only poor I, though glad 
to meet you You have been weeping, Mary," he added, 
as he saw her eyes were reddened with tears. "What has 

"Oh, Free! you cannot understand the cause of my 
grief any more than I can understand the reason for this 
strange home-coming of yours." 

"Thank God, Mary! I have found some one to call 
me by my name. I am glad you were the first to speak it. 
So you, at least, recognize me?" 

"I did from the first, Freeland. But I do not recognize 
your object in coming as you have." 

"How could I do differently, Mary. Even father 
refuses to know me, and I come home in worse plight than 
the Prodigal of old. There is no fatted calf for me unless 
I find him myself." 

"I do not understand it, Free, I do not understand it. 
Neither am I in a condition of mind to discuss it with you. 
I have just received word that my husband is dead. He 
died several days ago, it seems." 

His countenance instantly changed. The cloud which 
had overshadowed it was chased away by the look of relief 
given by the thought of what her words suggested. Then 
the sight of her tears, the deep grief which at that moment 
swayed her whole being caused him to hesitate, and again 
he felt a swift power o'ermastering him. His sunburned 
countenance showed that he meant what he said, while he 
held out his hands to her and said: 

"Forgive me, Mary; I feel for you in your grief. If he 
was a worthless man he — " 

"Was still my husband, Free. I knew him as he was 
when I married him, but I thought I could make him a bet- 
ter man. Alas! it was beyond my power, and he died as 
he had lived. The money that I got from the sale of the 
place only made him worse, and he constantly begged for 
it. Ten days ago he came to me for more, and in my weak- 
ness I gave him twenty-five dollars. It proved his end." 


"It was not your fault, Mary. You have been a good 
wife. It is useless for you to repine over that which can- 
not be helped. I am so glad to be with you now. Look 
up, Mary, in the midst of your sorrow, and smile." 

"Leave me, Free, lest I prove myself the weak woman 
I am. Go away and leave me in my despair. I shall soon 
leave Foxcraft forever. Only yesterday the man who 
bought our home for the gold he imagined there was in its 
soil tried to have me buy it back for as many hundred 
dollars as he paid thousands, through what you did. But I 
refused it, for I have no heart to live here longer. Some- 
where mother and I will find a place to live the few years 
left us." 

"No, no, Mary. You will think differently after a 
little time. I have not waited these twenty years — " 

"Hush, Freeland Newbegin! You do not realize what 
you are saying. I may have loved you once — I may now, 
but what you would propose can never be." 

"Why, Mary? Pardon me, for I would not seek for 
an answer now. But at the proper time — " 

"I command you, sir, to stop! I will not listen to the 
raan who dishonors the good name of my father, who was 
an honest man." 

"I do not understand you, Mary." 

"Because you will not. Go, go, Mr. Newbegin, and do 
your worst. If he is unable to answer, I will defend the 
good name of my father." 

In a moment now he understood, and for the first 
time he saw the folly of his action. Yet could he abandon 
a scheme so promising and full of satisfaction to him? 
Must he become the laughing stock of the town? 

"I will do nothing to injure the reputation of your 
good father, Mary." 

"Then you will give up this foolish claim against the 
town?" and her countenance brightened. 

"I did not mean exactly that, Mary, but I promise you 
I will do nothing to harm the memory of your father." 


"How can you avoid that and continue? It all reflects 
back upon him." 

"Not all. My father was the agent, and he — " 

"Everybody believes he paid the money over to father, 
who was the treasurer." 

"He has not even hinted that he has done it." 

"No, he has not, because he is loyal to the name of 
poor father. A y, they may say what they will against 
Squire Newbegin, but he is always true to his friends." 

"Which is more than you think of me," he said with a 
pang of regret. "But it was he I was trying to humble. 
I did not think of others." 

"I do not suppose you considered the hardship it was 
going to place upon the town's people, Mr. Newbegin." 

"I will never keep the money, or even demand the 
payment. So you see there will be no real harm." 

"The memory of my father would be none the less 
maligned. It would always be thought that he had kept 
the money, but I am sure he never did. He was honest." 

"I believe it, Mary." 

"And you will drop the matter?" 

"I wish I could. Alas! I have gone too far." 

"You will find that you have, sir, if you continue. 
Good day." 

"Stop, Mary! I have more I wish to say. I — I — ." 

But she did not turn back or show any intimation of 
stopping; while he continued to gaze after her until she 
disappeared behind the shrubbery that grew by the road- 
side; murmuring unconsciously: 

"What shadows we pursue." 

(Begun in the July, 1906, number; to be continued) 

Utterarp Heabeg 

The Gorham Press, Boston, Richard G. Badger, manager, sends us an 
invoice of poetry, good and indifferent, done up in tasty packages. We 
must profess a certain weakness for poetry, or is it a mark of higher 
appreciation of the beautiful in thought and expression? Let that be as it 
may, we feel that we belong to a goodly company, for if poets exist as 
plentifully as the adage-maker would have us believe then readers of 
rhyme and measure are even more common. But let us see what we have 
in the half dozen dainty little i:mos., in demure dress and gilt tops. 
Outwardly they stand upon an equal plane, and they are uniform in price, 
$1.25 each, postpaid. So far so good. 

Songs of the Steel Age, by William Hurd Hillyer. We opened 
this dainty volume with the expectation of slight reward for our pains, but 
find ourselves happily surprised. There are over fifty poems in the book, 
and we have yet to find one that does not please. Rugged, at times, in 
expression, possibly halting in measure here and there, yet withal there is 
ring of true steel and the throb of earnest endeavor in them all. We 
gladly give space to one, which thrills with truth as well as rhyme and 

Ere ever the sound of the sinister axe rang out where the wild birds dwell 
Or ever the rodman's wand adverse had broken the ancient spell, 
The old gods ruled in the plotless woods, and the song of each bearded 

Was blent with the plash of a fountain that flowed from an immemorial 

They were splendid days, those ended days, when the vast wind wheeled 

and whirled , 

To the violet verge where the cloudy surge broke white at the edge of the 

And the storm flames flickered to east and north, and the host of the rain 

marched by: 
And anon the red disk of the sun looked forth from the land of the west- 
ern sky. 

Now what do you hear them saying; — 

The oaks and the poplars tall? 
Brother of leaves, when the twilight grieves, 

What say they all? 
What whisper they when the dusk hangs gray 
And the moon motes fall? 


They speak of the restless vandal tribes that harried the silent grove, 
Of the turbulent timber chiefs that hard for the splendid pillage strove; 
Of trees by the hundred million slain, through a cycle of threescore years; 
And of warnings sounded forth in vain by a few unlauded seers. 

But most of all do they moan and call when the midmost dark sweeps 

And noiselessly in the gnarled gloom the tree-wraiths come and go; 
They call and moan, with a pious fear of a deity shadow-shrined, 
And at length they tell of the vengeance drear that the wood-gods 

wrought mankind. 

Now what do you hear them saying, — 

The oaks and the poplars tall? 
Brother of pines, when the blurred moon shines, 

What say they all? 
When the thin mist rolls 'mid the somber boles 

And the stark owls call? 

They tell how the legioned clouds came out from the camps of the storied 

And sought the fair populous plain with its fields, its towns and dissonant 

Then the flood dropped down, gray sheet on sheet, from the melting 

And river and sky in mid heaven high were as one dread chaos blent; 

And the long steel bridges writhed with pain and at length with a shriek 

went down 
And the people woke and cried in vain, from the roofs of the fated town, 
But beyond the pale of the desolate vale the world no message heard, 
And the throbbing fires on the broken wires died out with a half-formed 

Now ever we hear them sighing, — 

The oaks and the poplars tall; 
Brother of leaves, when the mad wind grieves, 

What say they all? 
On whom and where do the high gods swear 
Must the next curse fall? 

Satires. By Edwin Sauter. The author, in his Advertisement to 
the Satires, says he had certain thoughts. These he has decided wise to 
publish, and then very considerately acknowledges that he does not ask 
any man to read or, reading, believe, etc. This gives us courage to open 
the book that we may come to an understanding with this poet who 
holds at least one attribute that is not common. We read at the 


When, every muse seduced, a partial age 

Vaunts itself perfect in its putrid page; 

When hirelings bawd for prostituted print, 

Authors yclept, prolific without stint; 

When critic swarms the venal mart control, 

Vermin obsequious to the bibliopole; *> 

W T hen men exalted, of superior mind, 

In rabble tastes must inspiration find, 

Or, these contemned, in proud obscurity 

Live with their ideals, with their ideals die — 

How then, ye gods! can satire hold its tongue, 

Nor lash these evils, all to long unsung? 

Dramas of Camp and Cloister. By Archie E. Bartlett. This 
volume costs the buyer a quarter of a dollar more than the regular price 
of $1.25, while Satires sells for an even dollar. This work contains five 
"dramas." The longest and most ambitions of these is the "Empire of 
Talinis," which fills three-fourths of the book. This piece contains many 
strong places and, what is of quite as much importance, few really weak 
places. It is a love theme treated in terse yet tender manner. 

Bird Echoes, Alice Crooker Waite, has an inviting title, and we find 
that the author has not dealt impartially with the whole feathered family, 
from the lark to the starling. Nor are ali of the poet's endeavors cen- 
tered upon birds, for we find her felicitously reporting 
Over the hazy ridge the billowy clouds pile high, 
Trailing wavering shadows over fields of rippling rye; 
Softly the poplars turn silvery leaves to cloud-flaked sky, — 
Softly the poplars sing, whispering of the coming rain. 

Divine Adventures, John Niendorff, leads us to expect something 
out of the ordinary, and we find our guiding star in these metrical experi- 
ences to be those immortals, Cupid and Psyche. It is more or less of an 
adventure to stumble through the twenty-odd pages devoted to this soul- 
ful poem, in which the woes and gladness of the passion of love is pic- 
tured in vivid measure. Minor poems (by that we mean shorter) complete 
the volume, in one of which we catch this spirit of universal verse, which 
makes up in truthfulness if it lacks in poetry: 

A lack-wit if the Time — 
A foolish piece and niddy-noddy, 
To teach her gentle daughter, Rhyme, 
To flirt and dance with everybody. 

Nannie, A Song of the Heart. By Louis M. Elshemus. The 
author unblushingly (we haven't seen him so can't vouch for the truth of 
this statement) states in his Foreword that his work is a "Raphsody." 
We seldom read anything of this kind, so are likely to remain in ignorance 
of his efforts. We trust the book will meet with the success it deserves. 
Probably it will. 


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OBrantte J>tate |I@aga?me 

Vol. IV. OCTOBER, 1907. No. 4. 

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By George Waldo Browne 

CHOREAU'S vivid description continues in the 
same strain, in making his passage of the danger- 
ous section of the river: 

Falling all the way, and yet not discouraged by the 
lowest fall. By the law of its birth never to become stag- 
nant, for it has come out of the clouds, and down the sides 
of precipices worn in the flood, through beaver dams 
broke loose, not splitting but splicing and mending itself, 
until it found a breathing place in this low land. There is 
no danger now that the sun will steal it back to heaven 
asjain before it reaches the sea, for it has a warrant even to 
recover its own dews into its bosom again with interest at 
every eye. 

"A Week on the Concord and Merrimack Rivers," 
Thoreau's first book, was not a financial success. I think 
the entire edition was not far from a thousand copies, of 
which over nine hundred remained unsold for a long time. 
He used to remark that his library consisted of about a 
thousand volumes, of which he wrcte nine hundred. The 
failure of this work caused him not a little pecuniary 
embarrassment, and compelled him to give up thoughts of 
writing for a time and return to his surveying, at which he 
was skillful. Is it the irony of fate that to-day these 
same volumes sell for twenty dollars each? 



He was not inclined to associate in mixed company to 
any extent, remarking at one time, "I had rather sit 
on a pumpkin and have it all to myself than to be crowded 
on a velvet chair." Yet he was a brilliant conversationalist 
when the company was congenial and he was in the mood. 
With one of his abstemious manner of living and careful 
husbanding of his physical resources, it seems incongruous 
that both he and his beautiful wife should die in the prime of 
life of that dread scourge of New England. The splendid 
courage of neither failed until the dread summons came. 

Say not that Caesar was victorious. 

With toil and strife he stormed the house of Fame. 
In other sense this youth was glorious, 

Himself a kingdom wheresoe'er he came. 

Nor is it sufficient that we should mention Thoreau 
and Emerson* in the associations of the Merrimack and its 
literature. Others of the Concord immortal galaxy of liter- 
ary stars helped to link its name with theirs and immortality. 

Again the author catches the latent spirit of the joy 
of his surroundings and exclaims: 

"Traveling on foot very early one morning due east 
from here about twenty miles, from Caleb Harriman's 
tavern in Hampstead toward Haverhill, when I reached the 
railroad in Plaistow, I heard at some distance a faint music 
in the air like an yEolian harp, which I immediately sus- 

♦Ralph Waldo Emerson was born in Boston, May 25, 1803, and died 
April 27, 1SS2, his place of repose in Sleepy Hollow marked by a huge 
granite boulder. He became a resident of Concord, which seemed the 
natural center for the circle to which he belonged, in 1835. The "Old 
Manse" was his abode when he wrote his first book, "Nature," and it was 
made yet more famous when Nathaniel Hawthorne and his young bride 
became its tenants from 1843 to 1S46. "Mosses from an Old Manse," by 
the first named, was written here, in a room on the second floor. The 
noble mansion in Concord, which became Emerson's earlier home, has rung 
with the voices of Concord's famous group, conspicuous among which 
were Thoreau, the Alcotts, Margaret Fuller, Hawthorne, and others. 
— Editor. 


pccted to proceed from the cord of the telegraph vibrating 
in the just awakening morning wind, and applying my ear 
to one of the posts I was convinced that it was so. It was 
the telegraph harp singing its message through the coun- 
try, its message sent not by men but by gods. Perchance, 
like the statute of Memnon, it resounds only in the morn- 
ing when the first rays of the sun fall on it. It was like 
the first lyre or shell heard on the seashore, — that vibrating 
cord high in the air over the shores of earth. So have all 
things their higher and their lower uses. I heard a fairer 
news than the journals ever print. It told of things 
worthy to hear, and worthy of the electric fluid to carry the 
news of, not of the price of cotton and flour, but it hinted 
at the price of the world itself and of things which are 
priceless, of absolute truth and beauty. 

"Still the drum rolled on and stirred our blood to fresh 
extravagance that night. The clarion sound and clang of 
corselet and buckler were heard from many a hamlet of the 
soul, and many a knight was arming for the fight behind 
the encamped stars. 

Away! away! away! away! 

Ye have not kept your secret well, 
I will abide that other day, 

Those other lands ye tell. 

Has time no leisure left for these, 

The acts that ye rehearse? 
Is not eternity a lease 

For better deeds than verse? 

No mention of the literary associations of the Merri- 
mack would be complete without including Whittier. In 
fact, we have already, half unconsciously, quoted liberally 
from him. While New Hampshire may not claim this 
gifted poet as a son, she is fortunate in having his name 
closely connected with her rivers, lakes and mountains. 
It was equally fortunate, too, that he knew these attrac- 
tions of nature at their best, ere they had been robbed of 
the poetry of a primeval past by the prose of the present 
day, forever pounding with its hammer of toil. 


He knew the Merrimack as "the stream of my fathers," 
and glorified it as, 

"Type of the Northland's strength and glcry, 
Pride and hope of our home and race, — 
Freedom lending to rugged labor 
Tints of beauty and lines of grace." 

Among the more ambitious offerings made to the liter- 
ature, none takes higher rank than Whittier's "Bridal of 
Pennacook," written in 1848. This is an Indian legend of 
great beauty, though marred in places by his abominable 
nomenclature, and the date ascribed to the story is at least 
fifty years too recent. In 1662 we have reason to believe 
that Passaconnaway was at Pawtucket, now Lowell. But 
leaving these matters, which must be considered trifles 
with a poet, the poem opens with a fantastic description of 
a bewildering transposition from where 

"The moon 
Rising behind Umbagog's eastern pines, 
Like a great Indian camp fire; and its beams 
Spanning at midnight with a bridge of silver 
The Merrimack by Uncanoonuc's falls." 

We are given a glimpse of the storied era of the 
dusky days, 

That dim, strange land of Eld, now dying fast; 

And that which history gives not to the eye, 
The faded coloring of Time's tapestry, 

Let Fancy with her dream-dipped brush supply. 

One of the gifts of a mighty chieftain of the red 
brotherhood was the gift of sorcery, which the sachem of 
the Pennacooks possessed to a marked degree, and the 
poet proceeds to describe, until we learn that the others 
were so deeply affected by his magic 


Nightly down the river going, 
Swifter was the hunter's rowing, 
When he saw that lodge fire glowing 

O'er the waters still and red; 
And the squaw's dark eye burned brighter, 
And she drew her blanket tighter, 
As, with quick step and lighter, 

From that door she fled. 

The proud old chieftain, somehow we like that title 
better than bashaba or sagamore or sachem, which indi- 
cated a somewhat lower dignity than Passaconnaway held 
— let us begin over again. Passaconnaway, according to 
the poet, was a widower, but this loss was made good by 
having a very beautiful daughter. 

A lone, stern man. Yet, as sometimes 

The tempest smitten tree receives 
From one small root the sap which climbs 

Its topmost spray and crowning leaves, 
So from his child the sachem drew 

A life of love and hope, and felt 
His cold, rugged nature through 

The softness and the warmth of her young being melt. 

We suppose there were really beautiful Indian maids. 
This dusky heroine, very properly for a story, became the 
object of the affections of a chief of one of the tribes living 
lower down the river, He seemed to find the maid an easy 
victim to his wooing, for soon comes the wedding 

When along the river great wood fires 
Shot into the night their long red spires, 
Showing behind the tall, dark wood, 
Flashing before on the sweeping flood. 


The trapper that night on Turee's brook, 
And the weary fisher on Contoocook, 
Saw over the marshes and through the pine, 
And down on the river the dance-lights shine. 

The wedding must have been a grand affair, and the 
feast that followed worthy of so proud an occasion. Fish 
and game were brought by cunning hands from the four 
sections of the questland of the dusky hunter 

And drawn from the great stone vase which stands 
In the river scooped by a spirit's hands, 
Garnished with spoons of shell and horn, 
Stood the birchen dishes of smoking corn. 

This happy event passing without a shadow to mar its 
beauty and solemnity, the bride goes to her new home, 
which is described with minute fidelity. She seems to 
have been happy in an Indian way, until her father sent a 
messenger declaring that he would be pleased to have a 
visit from her; that he pined for her in his loneliness, and 
hoped she had not forgotten him. Like a dutiful daughter 
she started for her paternal home, following the road of 
the wilderness, 

Till rolling down its wooded banks between, 

A broad, clear mountain stream, the Merrimack was seen. 

The visit was a happy one, but when it came time for 
her to return to her liege lord by the marshes of the lower 
river, her stern parent failed to offer such an escort as the 
young husband felt was due her. This created a family 
breach at once, and stern old Passaconnaway swore by such 
gods as he knew that she should never return to his upstart 
of a son-in-law. The latter would not relent and so the 
poor wife was left to grieve over her unhapppy fate. The 
summer fled 

And on Autumn's gray and mournful grave the snow 
Hung its white wreaths; with stifled voice and low 


The river crept, by one vast bridge o'ercrossed, 
Built by the hoar-locked artisan of Frost. 

Unable to bear the separation longer, with the break- 
ing up of the river the following spring, the young wife set 
out alone upon her return in a frail boat down the river 
which bore on its angry bosom the ice-ruin of winter. 

Down the vexed center of that rushing tide. 
The thick huge ice-blocks threatening either side, 
The foam-white rocks of Amoskeag in view, 
With arrowy swiftness sped that light canoe. 

No more than the failing arm of the faithful wife was 
the slight craft equal to the task imposed upon it, and ere 
the rapids were passed 

Empty and broken circled the canoe 

In the vexed pool below — but, where was Weetamo? 

In close association with Whittier was the work of his 
protege, Lucy Larcom,* the sweet authoress of the mills 
of Lowell, while Mrs. Rebecca I. Davis of Haverhill, 
Mass., left his admirers a beautiful token of her esteem in 
two modest volumes called "Gleanings of the Merrimack 

We cannot better close this rather hasty sketch than 
by quoting from Mr. George S. Dorr'sf beautiful poem, 
"The Minstrel's Summer Home," and inscribed to the 
Merrimack's immortal bard: 

♦Lucy Larcom was born in Beverly, Mass., in 1826, and died in Bos- 
ton in 1893. She worked in the Lowell and Lawrence mills, thus acquir- 
ing by personal experience many of the descriptions of real life she 
penned so sweetly. While an operative at the Lowell looms she edited 
the journal by mill girls since floated as the "The Lowell Offering," Whit- 
tier was her staunch friend, and her best-known public works, outside of 
her work as editor of Our Young Folks, include "An Idyl of Work," "As 
It Is in Heaven," "The Unseen Friend," and "Poems." 

tA native of Wakefield and founder of the Carroll County Pioneer, 
which he has published for several years. — Editor. 

150 PEACE 

Sweet singer of our northern hills, 

Our valleys and our streams, 
You throw around us, by your words, 

The happiness of dreams; 
And each New England heart shall call 

For thee a blessing down, 
Aad weave a spray of amaranth, 

Within thy laurel crown. 

You love the scent of birch and pine, 

We read it in your song; 
You love the Bearcamp's winding stream, 

That gently flow's along; 
You love the hills of Ossipee, 

You love the elm-tree's shade, 
And love to worship at the shrine 

Which nature there hath made. 

And in your pleasant home, beside 

The smiling Merrimack, 
You hear the call they send to you. 

And gladly answer back; 
In many seasons past and gone, 

Thy feet have wandered there, 
And through the heart there ran a joy, 

'Mid verdure soft and fair. 


By Amy. Levy 

Deep in the grass outstretched I lie, 

Motionless on the hill; 
Above me is a cloudless sky, 

Around me all is still: — 

There is no breath, no sound, nor stir, 
The drowsy peace to break; 

I close my tired eyes — it were 
So simple not to wake. 



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JroU^llore of tfje Connecticut Galley 

By John M. Currier, M. D. 

£^f N THE year 1800 my father purchased one hundred 
31 acres of "wild land" in Grafton county, N. H., lying 
^^ upon the Connecticut River. For many years he 
struggled in the virgin forests, and paid for his farm; 
afterwards adding to it, by purchase, other lots of land par- 
tially cleared. He endured many hardships of pioneer life, 
without much of a chance for education; and it was not 
until the early settlers had paid for their farms, and had 
raised a surplus of produce, that any great interest was 
taken in educational matters. In such neighborhoods it 
was not strange that myths, belief in witchcraft and reli- 
ance upon signs should exist in a certain measure. Visit- 
ing among the neighbors was very common, particularly on 
autumn and winter evenings, without formality or invita- 
tion. Their "latch-strings were always out," and when the 
rap was heard at the door the almost invariable reply was 
the welcome words: "Walk in." Conversation was on 
farming interests, politics, religion, neighborhood gossip, 
the "district school," and now and then a bit of folk-lore 
received their attention, and that, too, without any 

My father's house stood on the west side of the main 
road, on a broad interval; east of the road rose a high hill 
partly covered with evergreen trees, among which, only a 
few years before, roamed deer, black bear, and howling 
wolves. One of the most memorable and pleasant occa- 
sions in my youthful days was one winter evening, when 
some of our friends came in for a visit. The family occu- 
pied one large room, on one side of which was a large brick 
fireplace; in this was a good roaring and snapping fire, 
which afforded sufficient light without any candles. Our 



family and friends sat in a semi-circle around the fire. 
There had just been a heavy snow storm, and the trees 
were covered with snow. The full moon rose through the 
snow-laden evergreens, and shone brightly into our room 
through the east windows. Over the hard-wood fire, on 
the crane, hung a pot of bean-porridge, from which we 
all commenced our supper, each one stepping up and dip- 
ping out what he wished, and returning to one's seat in 
the semi-circle; the last course being pumpkin pie and 
cheese. Later in the evening we had popped corn, butter- 
nuts, apples, and cider. In the course of this rural visit 
several ghost and witch stories were related, half to keep 
up the conversation and half to make those stare who 
might take stock in their genuineness. Some of those that 
were related, on that occasion and at other times, I will 
relate as I heard them. 

A woman of the neighborhood was at my father's 
house one evening, when some singular noise turned her 
attention to the subject of witchcraft, and I heard her 
relate, in substance, the following account: 

"I was out alone in the door-yard* one bright moon- 
light evening last summer, gathering up some chips to 
build a fire with the next morning, when I heard several 
female voices, talking and laughing merrily, apparently 
coming down the road. They seemed to be rapidly 
approaching, and I waited to see who they were; when they 
got near me, I could see no one, but they were heard 
directly overhead in the air. I looked up and saw nothing 
but the bright stars. I could hear their talking and laugh- 
ing as they passed along overhead. Their voices grew 
fainter and fainter as they passed off in an opposite direc- 
tion from whence they came, until I could hear them no 

♦Front yards were called "door-yards" in the rural districts in the 
country. They were large enough so the wood was left there and 
chopped in the spring. The chips were left till the following summer, 
when they were picked up and burned as they were wanted. 


This woman was free to state, with perfect confidence, 
that these voices were a company of witches going through 
the air to some unoccupied house to hold a frolic and have 
a dance. She believed they could go invisibly in spirit, 
separate from the body, and were possessed with muscular 
power, equal if not superior to that in the body, to perform 
any diabolical acts they might fancy. And, however 
decrepit they might be in the body, they were as lively and 
buoyant in the spirit as they ever were in their youthful 
days. She believed that witches had the power to disen- 
gage the spirit of an individual from the body, when found 
asleep or unawares, and could take that spirit along with 
them, when it would be perfectly under their control, and 
could be made to perform any service they desired; and 
sometime such stolen spirits were made the butt of fun at 
their evening's entertainments at some haunted house. 
The spirits of those individuals would in all cases be 
returned to their own bodies before morning; and although 
the subjects may have slept soundly all night, they would 
be either sick or affected with great lassitude the next day. 
I have myself heard the question asked, both in sobriety 
and half in jest, if one "was rode" by witches the night 
previous. I have heard related that the witch throws the 
bridle upon the face of the sleeper, and then repeats an 
incantation before the spirit will disengage and be ready 
for a journey, and if the sleeper will only awake and throw 
the bridle upon the witch's face while she is repeating the 
incantation, her spirit is subdued, and must obey the will 
of the sleeper, and continue in that service until the bridle 
is taken off, or as long as her master or mistress shall 
remain silent; but if one word should be spoken aloud the 
witch is freed from servitude, and she is gone. 

I was well acquainted with a farmer who had a large 
family of children: all believed in witchcraft. I have heard 
him relate the following story several times: One day in 
March he and his sons went to one of his neighbors, with 
a yoke of oxen, horse, and sled, for a load of hay. On 


their return they came to a bad place in the road, where 
the horse refused to go farther and laid down in the road. 
They tried various means to induce the horse to get up, 
but all in vain. After spending over one half day in the 
attempt, they suspected her of being bewitched by a cer- 
tain old woman who lived in the neighborhood, and the 
man seized an axe and attempted to kill the horse by beat- 
ing out its brains. The skull was broken, and the horse 
was left upon the roadside until the next morning. Just at 
that moment the old woman had a bad spell, her head 
dropped to one side and a doctor was sent for. She lived 
only a few days. In the mean time the family of the old 
woman sent down to the man's house for some favors, but 
they were all refused. He believed, if he should accom- 
modate them in the least thing, that the old woman would 
recover, believing that he had struck the death-blow to the 
witch when he struck the horse. The next morning after, 
he went down to the horse and was surprised to find it 
alive. This survival he attributed to blows of the axe fall- 
ing upon the witch instead of the horse. This man firmly 
believed that he struck the death-blow to the old woman 
when he struck the horse, and that she w r ould have recov- 
ered had he accommodated the family with the least favor. 
He told this story with evident pride in his skill in gaining 
advantage over the witch. 


Ringing in the ears or burning of the ears indicates 
that somebody is talking about one. (Northern Vermont.) 

The birth of twin calves indicates death in the owner's 
family within one year. (Western New Hampshire.) 

To cure hernia in a child, split a small tree, pass the 
child through the opening, bringing the halves together, 
and fasten with a string; if the halves grow together as 
one tree, the hernia will be cured, otherwise it will not. 
(Vermont and New Hampshire.) 


If a death occurs in the family of an owner of bees, 
they must be informed of the fact by addressing them in a 
loud voice in front of the hive; otherwise they will die off, 
make but little honey or produce no swarms. (New 

If one kills a snake by shooting it, that gun will ever 
after be likely to miss other game. If the first snake seen 
is killed, that person will have good luck in killing others 
met with during the rest of the year. (Grafton county, 
N. H.) This last sentence alludes to the custom among 
early New England people of killing every snake that is 
met with. 

When one is troubled with cramps, the toes of the 
boots should be turned toward the street at night, to cure 
the disease. (Orleans county, Vt.) 

Timothy Boardman was an early settler of Rutland, 
Vt. He was engaged in privateering along the Atlantic 
coast during a portion of the Revolutionary period. On 
his cruises he kept a journal of important events and of 
the ship's log. After he settled in Rutland he used the 
blank leaves of these books to keep various accounts and 
note down various memoranda. The following rule for 
clearing land we copy in full: 

"Janr? 1782 How to Clear Land. Girdle y r Timber 
in the full of the Moon in June & full of Moon & Sine of 
the Hart in August To kill it Quick Jacob Safford." 

The following story about cucumbers I have heard 
told as a wise saying of many a doctor in Vermont, and 
each one is believed to be originator of the recipe: Take a 
cucumber and peel it, cut it into very thin slices, put on 
vinegar, salt, and pepper, then throw it out to the hogs, 
and it will not hurt one. The italicized words are spoken 
more rapidly than the others, accompanied with a cunning 

Another smart saying I have heard repeated in many 
towns: Eat dried apple tor breakfast, drink cold water for 
dinner, and let the apple swell for supper. 


Children should not be allowed to rap in sport at their 
own door for admission, for it is a sign of sickness or death 
in the family. 

If the lungs of a sister or brother who has died of 
consumption be burned the ashes will cure the living mem- 
bers of the family affected with that disease. 

A short time ago I was visiting a patient one evening* 
in a family, when one of her neighbors related the follow- 
ing incident: About five years ago she and her husband 
were at home alone on Sunday afternoon, the children all 
being away, when they heard a moaning noise in the wood- 
box. They both heard it distinctly. It sounded like the 
groans of one in distress. They examined the box to see 
if any cause could be found therein. Finding none, they 
went into the cellar underneath the box; also went around 
the house, but nothing was discovered that could explain 
the moaning. When the cover to the box was lifted up, the 
noise ceased; when let down, and they went away from it, the 
noise began again. This was repeated several times, then 
ceased entirely. During that week they received a letter 
announcing the death of a relative's wife, who died on Sun- 
day, and just at the hour when they heard the moaning in 
the wood-box. It was confirmed in their minds that that 
moaning was a warning of the death of their relative. 

In the summer of 1852 I was at a farmhouse in a rural 
town in Grafton county, N. H., when a traveling woman, 
coarsely dressed, called to get a glass of water to drink, 
and inquire the distance to the next village. She drank 
the water and started on her journey. Scarcely had she 
gone thirty rods when the woman of the house said she 
believed the traveler was a witch, and she was going to try 
her. She immediately took a knitting needle from her 
work, found one of the traveler's tracks in the path, and 
stuck the needle into it. Almost immediately the traveler 

*I have always noticed that these wonderful witch and ghost stories 
flow more freely in the night than in the day time. 


stopped, turned around, stood still, and gazed towards us, 
who were watching the trial. The woman of the house 
said she would not remove the needle from the track, even 
if the traveler should never move again; but she turned 
soon, and went on without stopping. The woman with the 
needle believed the steel had power to fasten a witch in her 
tracks so she could not move, and when she saw that the 
woman went on her way, she believed the power was lost 
by her speaking; so she tried another track with her needle, 
but without effect. 

At the foot of a steep and rugged mountain in a New 
Hampshire town, where the highway has scarcely room to 
to be built between the precipitous ledges and the Connecti- 
cut river, lived a woman, between 1S40 and 1850, who believed 
in all sorts of witchcraft. Every pain she had she thought 
was caused by witches. Every perplexity of life was 
caused by evil spirits. When she was sick she was often 
overheard talking to and threatening the witches, whom 
she could not see, but did not doubt their presence. For 
years she constantly wore a string of beads of mountain 
anh around her neck to keep off the witches. These beads 
were made from the small branches of the mountain ash 
(Pyrus Americana, D. C), sometimes called witchwood. 
They were cut about three-eighths of an inch in length, 
the bark being left on, and strung on a string running 
through the pith. She was careful to keep them concealed, 
but sometimes they would work up above her collar and be 
conspicuous. This species of tree was once quite popular 
among New England witch-believers as a charm against 

In one of the inland towns in Grafton county, N. H., 
the following story was told of a woman, between 1830 and 
1845, vvno was accused of being a witch. She called one 
day at the house of one of her neighbors, who had ten fine 
pigs only a few days old, and wanted the owner to give her 
one. She was informed that all of them had been prom- 
ised and sold, so that he could not accommodate her. She 


replied that if he did not give her one he would be sorry 
for it. The woman left the house, and in about two hours 
afterwards the ten pigs jumped upon the rail fence and 
scampered off like squirrels, and never returned, nor were 
they ever heard from. 

In another town in Grafton county, N. H., in about 
1820, lived a family who believed in witches. One day 
their oldest child, a boy four years of age, was taken sick. 
The mother at once suspected that he was bewitched by a 
neighboring woman; and, while she was caring for him, the 
boy looked out of the window across a ravine, and he saw 
the woman suspected coming over the hill to trouble him, 
and called her by name. The mother looked out but could 
not see her, being invisible to her but perfectly visible to 
the boy, who dreaded her. The woman suspected was a 
particular object of hatred to the mother, who was the 
more exasperated because of the invisibility to her and visi- 
bility to her boy. The boy recovered as soon as the sus- 
pected woman left his presence. 

In the town of Ryegate, Vt., in 1846, lived a man who 
believed in witchcraft, warnings, ghosts, etc. I heard him 
remark one day that he had observed a white bird flying 
slowly in circles over a neighboring graveyard. He ex- 
pressed himself very confidently that it would not be long 
before there would be several burials in that yard. He 
said he had observed the occurrence many times, and never 
knew it to fail. I have heard this belief expressed many 
times since in other New England towns, and think the 
belief among the uneducated is more prevalent at the 
present time than is generally supposed. 

Between 1845 an d 1855 there lived a blacksmith in the 
town of B n, N. H., who was a firm believer in witch- 
craft. One day a man came into his shop to get a small 
job of work done forthwith, being in a hurry to return to 
his work. The blacksmith suspected him possessed with 
powers of witchcraft, and determined to try him under 
some of the popular rules for the detection of his art; so 



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he nailed a horseshoe over the door, believing that if so 
possessed he would be unable to pass out of the shop 
under it. The man's job was immediately finished; but, 
instead of starting for home, he lingered in the shop nearly 
all the forenoon, and seemed in no hurry to get away, pre- 
tending that he was waiting to see a man who, he thought, 
would shortly pass that way. This sudden change in the 
plans confirmed the blacksmith in his suspicions of the 
man's character, and he removed the shoe from over the 
door, and the man started for home at once. 

In 1846 I was informed by an intelligent woman, in a 
rural town in New Hampshire, that she was weaving one 
day when all at once her loom and web began to act badly; 
she tried to "fix" it, but it persisted to get out of fix just 
as often as she could set it right. She believed it was 
bewitched, and threatened to heat some water and scald 
the witch that was the cause of her trouble. The water 
was put upon the stove to heat, but before the water had 
time to boil the witch departed and the web worked as well 
as ever. 

On another occasion this same woman churned three 
days on some cream before the butter would come, and 
then only after she had threatened to throw the cream into 
the fire. 

If candles are dipped on Friday, there will be a death 
in the family within one year. 

— Journal American Folk-Lore. 

^eart of Cfjilbfjoob 

By Mrs. Felicia Hemans 

Hast thou come with the heart of thy childhood back? 

The free, the pure, the kind? 
So murmured the trees in my homeward track, 

As they played to the mountain wind, 

Cije ^iege of tfje Wolbt* 

An Incident in the Early History of Tamworth 
By Joseph Gilman 

This article, written about seventy-five years ago, is here reprinted 
from the Boston Transcript, as it is believed to be the best account of the 
stirring scene depicted which has been given. Mr. Gilman lived in Sand- 
wich, and though summoned to the assistance of those fighting the 
wolves, he was unable to respond on account of illness. — Editor. 

CHE fourteenth day of November, 1830, is a day 
long to be remembered by the inhabitants of 
Tamworth, N. H., for on that day, about four 
o'clock in the afternoon, [sic] the startling and thrilling 
cry, "The wolves are coming down from the northern 
mountains in countless numbers," was spread through the 
length and breadth of the town by numerous couriers 
mounted on the swiftest horses, who in an incredibly short 
space of time spread the alarm into adjacent towns full 
twelve miles distant, thoroughly arousing the sleeping 
people to the threatened danger, who in an instant freed 
themselves from the sleepy god Morpheus, and hurried on 
their apparel as best they could amid the darkness of mid- 
night and the crying and screaming of the affrighted 
women and children who expected never to see them more, 
but thought that they would all be torn in pieces by the 
ugly beasts. 

It appeared upon investigation that about the time 
specified above, a pack of wolves was seen to enter a wood 
lot and sap yard of about twenty acres entirely surrounded 
by cleared land, upon Marston Hill. The neighbors were 
quickly notified, and commenced posting sentinels at all 
sides of the woods, at first at long intervals, but as fast as 
the people were notified and arrived the posts were short- 
ened, and numerous fires were kindled along the lines, 



which lighted the country around for miles. By almost 
superhuman exertion and vigilance the enemy was kept 
from making good its retreat to the mountains. The con- 
tinual and hideous howling of the wolves within the enclos- 
ure and the answers back by their numerous comrades on 
the mountains round about, caused cold chills to run over 
all of the sentinels, as they kept their lonely vigils through- 
out that long and wearisome night, exposed to the full blast 
of the autumn's chilly winds which swept over the moun- 
tains and down the valleys. Had it not been for the kind 
sympathy of the ladies in the neighborhood, their trials 
and sufferings would have been vastly more severe. These 
ladies brought hot coffee and other refreshments, and liber- 
ally supplied the soldierly citizens during the whole of that 
eventful night which so tried men's souls. 

Re-enforcements were constantly arriving all night 
long, when by daylight it was estimated that there were 
upon the ground fully six hundred warriors of all ages, 
from the age of ten to the gray-haired veteran of fourscore 
years, armed to the teeth, some with guns, some with 
pitchforks and others with clubs. 

At this time a council of war was held by the chiefs 
and officers, when the following program was agreed upon: 
First, the chief command was conferred upon General 
Quinby of Sandwich, an old and experienced warrior, in 
whose judgment and ability for a desperate enterprise all 
had the fullest confidence. 

The general immediately gave orders for the detailing 
of twenty-four sharpshooters to be stationed ten paces in 
advance of the main line, six on each of the four sides of 
the woods, fully equipped and ready to march when the 
order should be given. He also sent out a general order 
through his aids to the entire army composing the lines of 
circumvalation that every man should stand transfixed to 
the spot he then occupied, not to fire a gun, suffer the 
enemy to escape, or to make a shout, at the peril of being 
immediately shot. 


After the aids had made the circuit of the entire lines 
and saw that every man would give a good account of him- 
self, and had reined up their fiery steeds in a circle around 
the general, who was mounted upon a high rock, with the 
stillness of death upon the army, the order was given in a 
stentorian voice which might have been heard for miles, 
"Sharpshooters to the center! Advance!" That order 
sent emotions to the soul that must be felt to be realized, 
for it cannot be described. In a few minutes the sharp 
reports of the rifles and the unearthly howling of the 
wolves plainly told that the work of death had commenced 
and would be pursued to the bitter end. 

The wolves, frenzied by their numerous wounds, would 
rush with lightning speed from the thicket to the lines, 
seemingly fully intent upon forcing the lines and making 
good their escape or perishing in the attempt, but the 
dauntless courage of the troops never for a moment gave 
way, although incessantly endangered by the charges of 
the enemy in the endeavors of the wolves to run between 
the legs of the sentinels or leap over their heads. 

After having made hundreds of fruitless attempts to 
scale the lines the wolves doggedly kept in the woods, 
although they never slackened their speed from the first 
moment to the last, thus the reason why more than twenty 
shots had to be made to every wolf slain. In about one 
hour from the firing of the first gun the same order was 
given to the main army that was given to the sharp- 
shooters at the commencement of the battle, and when the 
entire hosts met in a solid body in the center, they for the 
first time in sixteen hours raised their voices from a 
whisper to the wildest hurrahs and made the old wood ring 
with the shouts of victory. 

Soon the troops returned to the headquarters bearing 
in triumph the trophies of their victory, four immense 
wolves, and laid them at the feet of the commander-in- 
chief, when thrice three cheers were given in thunder tones, 
which made the welkin ringfor miles around, so effectively 



scaring the wolves back upon the mountains that there has 
not been one of them cr their descendants seen or heard of in 
town since, and no doubt but what the rough handling they 
received on that occasion will be handed down to their pos- 
terity to the latest generation. 

Immediately the troops were formed in line, headed by 
the commander in a barouche, in which the spoils of victory 
were deposited, and in a rapid march of thirty-five minutes 
they arrived in the village and formed a hollow square in 
front of Remick's Hotel, with the commander-in-chief in 
the center, mounted upon the top of his carriage. Amid 
the cheers and waving of handkerchiefs by the ladies in the 
windows and on the balconies, he made a speech befitting 
the occasion, after which a run was made upon the bar, 
which, although holding out like the widow's cruse of oil, 
had to succumb to the excessive thirst engendered by a 
total abstinence of twenty hours. Then the stores in their 
turn were compelled to show the white feather, which, of 
course, brought the glorification to a dead halt, and every 
man returned to his own tent feeling in his imagination 
that a greater hero than himself could not be found. 

Ctc Bppletree 

By Charles A. Stickney 

From the time when the mild May breezes 

Call forth your blossoms rare, 
Filling the world with fragrance, 

Inspiring the song-bird's air, 
To the time when the southron-cheeked jewel 

Hangs ripe on your bending bough, 
I have watched you and loved you since childhood- 

Your lover I'm proud to be now. 


_ Holding fast your cradled offspring, 

As close as maternity's fold, 
Shielding from summer sun torrid, 

And the east wind stormy and cold; 
Hushing to rest when the darkness 

Envelops the earth and sky; 
Keeping time with your billowy branches 

To the night wind's lullaby. 

Many lays have been sung of the linden- — 

Of the pine tree, stately and tall; 
Of the oak, gigantic and sturdy; 

Of the ivy that clings to the wall; 
Of the elm, with its willowy pendants; 

Of the palm tree over the sea; 
But my song and my heart bring their homage 

To you — only you — Appletree. 

By Nathan Hale, Esq. 

A generation or more ago this was a favorite expression, and much 
was said and written upon the subject. The following passage taken from 
a work entitled "Excursion to Winnipiseogee," by a "Gentleman from 
Boston," aptly expresses an incident connected with one of these flights. — 

N OUR passage from the lead mines of Eaton, 

which General L had invited us to visit, we 

were stopped in a narrow part of the road by four 
wagons, one of which, in descending a rugged declivity of 
a spur of the Ossipee, was upset, and the whole cargo, con- 
sisting of women, children and household stuff, was 
thrown out and lay spread on the ground. 

Our assistance was required, and more gladly accepted 
as the day was tar spent, and indications of foul weather 


appeared in the sky. Besides, they were fearful of not 
arriving at any place of shelter; preparations for lodging 
in the wagons having been deferred until they had passed 
into the woods, where no tavern was yet to be found. 

Their equipage consisted of four wagons covered with 
sailcloth, and drawn by two horses each. Two of those « 
contained the luggage; and two were appropriated sepa- 
rately, to the accommodation of the men, and the women 
and children. 

It appeared that they were migrating to Indiana, where 
land had been purchased and several log huts erected by 
the young men, and were in readiness to receive their fam- 
ilies. Three of these young men had returned from 
Indiana for the purpose of conducting the removal of the 
four elderly men and women — three younger women and 
six children. 

After helping them to refit, we left them to pursue 
their tedious journey; with which, however, the old men 
and women seemed not to be perfectly reconciled; but the 
young men and women were in fine spirits; full of anima- 
tion, and not doubting of a prosperous termination of their 

Such emigrations have lessened within a few years, 
and perhaps it is well for New England that they have; for 
had they continued, such as they were, during what were 
called in Maine, "The years of famine," that is, between 
1810- and 1816, they would have drained the country of 
much of its youthful strengh. Such was the emigration 
at that period that four thousand families were said in the 
journals to have passed one of the bridges in the western 
part of New York in one season. We presume, however, 
this to be incorrect, and that four thousand persons was 
meant. A group of those emigrants passing through the 
main streets of Boston exited much attention. 

"2founfc» for Kansas" 

By Ed. Blair 

G'lang there, Jerry, 
Whoa haw, Buck, 
Bound f ej Kansas, 
Dern my luck. 
Hed three fortunes 
In my grip, 
But I had ter 
Take a trip; 
G'lang there, Jerry, 
Whoa haw, Buck, 
Bound fer Kansas, 
Dern my luck, 

Owned a farm there 
Long ago, 
Hundred feet of 
Salt below. 
Couldn't rest, though. 
Scarce a minute, 
Though there was a 
Fortune in it. 
Pulled up stakes fer 
Further West, 
Well, I 'spose ye 
Know the rest. 
G'lang there, Jerry, 
Whoa haw, Buck, 
Bound fer Kansas, 
Dern my luck. 

Then got weary 
And went back, 
Bought again 
Another tract, 
Down where they have 
Gas 'n' oil 
And the richest 
Kind o' soil. 
Stayed three years V 
Moved away; 
Gushin' gas well 
Found next day. 
G'lang there, Jerry, 
Whoa haw, Buck, 

Bound fer Kansas, 
Dern my luck. 

Then moved down to 
Swore this move wuz 
My last one. 
Bought a quarter 
Where there's lead, 
Raised two crops 'n* 
Got ahead. 
Didn't know that 
Lead was there, 
Lead and zinc now 
Left that farm for 
Now I'm goin r 
Back — whoa haw, 
G'lang there, Jerry, 
Whoa haw, Buck, 
Bound fer Kansas, 
Dern my luck. 

Ef I git In- 
Side that State 
(And I'll git there 
Soon or late). 
Bet your life I'll 
Take my stand 
Somewhere on a 
Piece o' land, 
And I'll not be 
Moved an inch. 
'Nless a cyclone 
Gits a clinch, 
Fer if I should 
Loose my hold 
They'd begin to 
Diggin' gold. 
G'lang there, Jerry, 
Whoa haw, Buck, 
Bound fer Kansas, 
Dern my luck. 


A Plain Tale of Plain People, Some of Whom You May Have 

Known, All of Whom Lived a Third of a Century Ago 

By George Waldo Browne 

[Copyright, 1906. by the Author] 
What shadows we are and what shadows we pursue ! — Burke. 



Tho' old we may wander and lonely may roam, 
Forsaken and hopeless, an outcast from home, 
Tho' manhood has dark'ned the childhood of truth, 
Yet burns in our bosom the embers of youth. 

— Browne. 

/^>^HE tall, old-fashioned clock standing in the hallway 
' \Jj . of Deacon Goodwill's home was doling forth the 
~* IF " hour of eleven following the scene described at 
the close of our last chapter when the rumble of wagon 
wheels, which was not to be mistaken by the subtle deacon, 
was heard in the distance. Flinging open the door he 
stood on the threshold, candle in hand, trying to catch a 
glimpse of Abe, calling out as soon as the shadowy figure 
of his son loomed indistinctly down the road: 

"Look here, yeou graceless scamp, where hev yeou 

Abe, in the exuberance of spirit, failed to heed the 
ominous tones of his father and, regardless of the question 
asked him, cried: 

"Bet has beat, dad, and the ring is broke!" 


"Idiot!" screamed the irate father, leaving the house 
bare-headed and hastening his steps toward the team enter- 
ing the yard, "what d'yeou mean by this unregenerate 
bizness? Yeou hev ruined us all." 

"The money is mine — two hundred dollars!" cried the 
overjoyed Abe, jumping from the wagon and beginning to 
dance about in wild delight. He seemed to forget his 
^ father's disapproval; in fact, to forget everything except 
his great victory won at Coldbrook. This indifference to 
his angry words was such a surprise to the deacon that he 
knew not what to say or do. But the stern and humilating . 
fact remained that Abe had been racing horses, and he had 
become so hardened that he had made no pretence of deny- 
ing it. The good man groaned in anguish, while he ran 
his eye over the gaunt form of the mare, as she stood 
with almost human meekness before him. 

"Look at her!" he exclaimed, hoarsely. "Abraham 
Goodwill, yeou hev been racin' hosses — that most ungodly 
thing — at Coldbrook? Don't yeou dare to deny it to me, 
yeour father, who has tried to bring yeou up in the path of 
righteousness! Oh, that I should hev lived to meet this 

"Dad, I'm sorry yeou think I've done wrong, but I 
jess felt like doing it. I did want to go to Coe's Academy, 
and that prize money will pay all my bills." 

"Who talks about prize money? Et's racin' hosses 
yeou hev been, an' look et that mare. Yeou hev sp'iled 
her, th' best hoss I ever owned! Sich — " 

"Who claims to own old Bet, Deacon Goodwill? The 
horse is fairly mine, bought for two hundred dollars, and 
the time has come for me to claim possession." 

The speaker, as must be naturally inferred, was Free 
Newbegin, who had hastened to the scene as soon as he 
had become aware of the return of Abe. He was closely 
followed by his friend. It was too dark to see the change 
which came swiftly over the sun-burned countenance of 
Deacon Goodwill at this sudden announcement of the town 


cla'mant, but something of the state of his mind was 
apparent in the inflection of his voice, as well as in his 
words, while he retorted impetuously: 

"Bought ol* Bet for two hundred dollars, Mr. Bid well? 
Yeou ain't paid me th' money, an' I ain't goin' to take it 
neow! I wouldn't part with old Bet for a farthin' less 'n 
five hundred dollars — not for any money! She's the best 
hoss I ever owned." 

"Right, my good Deacon; now you talk good hoss 
sense. But if you ever conclude to sell her, please let me 
have the first offer." 

Deacon Goodwill made no reply to Newbegin, but it 
was evident that his anger had in a great measure subsided. 
He began to pat old Bet, though he did not look toward 
Abe. The latter, feeling that the worst had been passed, 
hesitated in addressing his father, fearing lest he might say 
something which would awaken his old spirit of indignation 
against him for his undutiful course. Understanding the 
critical situation and the temper of those with whom he 
was dealing, Newbegin quickly said: 

"I am glad that things have turned out just as they 
have. Now Bet has earned the best supper we can give 
her, and let us take hold and see that she is both comfort- 
ably housed and fed. After that we will listen to Abe's 
explanation, which I am sure he is anxious to make. You 
had better go into the house, Deacon, for I fear this damp 
air will bring you another attack of your old enemy." 

The suggestions were carried out to the letter, and 
while they cared for the tired mare Newbegin and Abe dis- 
cussed the outcome of the affair at Coldbrook, the latter 
freely unbosoming himself to the former, who showed such 
a hearty appreciation in his interest. Upon reaching the 
house, whither Deacon Goodwill had gone, they found him 
impatiently awaiting their coming. All traces of anger 
had disappeared, and in the place of this unhappy element 
was a feeling of humiliation and resignation to an evil of 
which he was as yet unable to fully comprehend. That 


he had been discussing the situation with Mrs. Goodwill 
was apparent from her words, as she greeted Abe upon his 
entrance into the house: 

"Your father and I, my son, are very anxious that you 
shall explain all that has been done both at the fair and 
before you went. You cannot help knowing that he is 
very sorry for what has taken place. You may remain with 
us, Mr. Bid well, if you wish." 

The latter, followed by his friend, had started to leave 
the room and they both thanked her for her words, but 
feeling that it was a family meeting that should not be pro- 
faned by strangers they politely withdrew. As soon as 
they were gone, Abe began: 

"I do not know where to begin, mother. I did not 
mean to do anything really wrong, but I did want to go to 
Coe's Academy so much, and when I found aout about the 
prizes offered at Coldbrook and that old Bet could trot so 
fast I- " 

"Why didn't yeou ask me about goin' to Coe's — " 

"Hush, Timothy, hush," admonished Mrs. Goodwill. 
"Let Abraham finish his story. When we know the whole 
we shall be better able to say what is proper to say." 

So Abe resumed his explanation, confessing in detail 
the manner in which he had trained the mare for the race, 
interrupted slightly, at intervals, by groans from his father, 
until that morning he left the grist at Willey's mill to be 
ground, while he drove hastily over to Coldbrook. 

"I think that was the first time I begun to feel queer 
about what I was doing, dad, and I almost wished I hadn't 
gone. But there was the prize money, Coe's Academy, 
g§* and the sight of the crowd made me sorter forgit. I never 

see so many folks together in my life. I had hard work to 
get through to where the men who were running the fair 
stood. I was hooted at, and some tried to stop me. But I 
jess riz up in the wagon, and when I swept the old whip 
over their heads they sort of fell back. Yaou oughterseen 
how s'prised the men were at the front, and I see Jock 


Jenness and Johnson a-putting their heads together, a-nod- 
ding and a-pointing at me. I don't know what they said, 
but I was told to get out of the way, and when I told 'em 
I was there to race old Bet they larfed till their boots 
shook. Then they ordered me to drive out of the way or 
they'd get officers to show me the way. I told 'em again 
I was there to get the prize money, and they right up and 
told me I couldn't race old Bet, 'cos she didn't have any 
record. I was only a boy and not responsible. My dander 
riz then, but I soon found that I was of no more account 
*n a thunder-bug a-butting against a rock. I hadn't looked 
for that, and I felt blue. 

"Just then along come Squire Newbegin, and I seemed 
to go right up. He weren't long in finding aout about it, 
when he says sharp like: 

" 'Who says this boy is not to have a fair show here 
to-day? I know him as a neighbor. If his hoss has no 
record she will make one to-day that'll be a surprise. Yes; 
this boy and his hoss will have fair show here or there'll be 
no race at Coldbrook this year.' 

"I tell you they stood aout their eyes, but no one 
answered I knew the squire had a hoss there, and a good 
one, and I could see if Bet won it would take the prize from 
him. So I edged up to him and I said: 

"'Yaou have got a hoss here, Squire, and I think I'll 
take old Bet aout. I ain't no bizness here again — ' 

"He stopped me right there, and stooping over he whis- 
pered: 'Abe, don't lose courage nor step aside for any man. 
If you hold old Bet up to her best the prize is yours. I 
had rather you'd have it than I.' 

"So old Bet went into the race and, dad, I honestly 
think what the Squire said helped to win. I kept thinking 
about it all the time, and they say old Bet was handled- 
well. You oughter heard 'em holler when we come in half 
. a length ahead, with the squire's hoss close behind. 'Pears 
like their shouts air ringing in my ears naow. The squire 
was the only one to speak to me, but he come along and, 


slapping me on the shoulder said in his most friendly 

"'Yaou did that well, Abe, and the old mare won 
squarely. I will see that you have the prize money, and I 
hope yaou'll put it to good use.' Then he sorter stopped, 
as if he was thinking of something else to say, and speak- 
ing very low, so no one else could hear him, he said: 

"'This will make yaour father feel bad, Abe, and I want 
yaou to promise him that you'll never race hosses again, 
and that old Bet shall stay upon the farm as long as she 

"Everybody's praising Squire Newbegin for the way he 
broke the ring at Coldbrook, and he told me that he is 
going to plow up the common at Sunset and set it out to 
trees, each to bear the name of a citizen of the taown, so 
that the Flatiron shall be a beautiful park. He wants 
yaou to set aout the first tree, and there's going to be one 
named for old Bet." 

Possibly it was five minutes before either of Abe's 
parents spoke. Enoch, who would not go to bed until Abe 
had got home, looked from one to another in speechless 
wonder. Finally Deacon Goodwill said in a slow, meas- 
ured tone, as if weighing each word: 

"My son, we air all frail mortals, an' th' weakest when 
we think we air th' strongest. As I would hev the good 
Lord deal with me so I'm goin' to deal with yeou. Let us 

The prayer of the deacon was so deep and long that 
the guests overhead heard plainly his supplication, and they 
knew that Abe had been forgiven. This w r as evident the 
following morning at the breakfast table, plainly pictured 
upon the radiant countenance of Abe, in the childish 
exuberance of Enoch and the other children, in the cheer- 
fulness of their mother's beaming gaze, and not less plainly 
was it shown in the tone and manner of the head of the 
house. The old stern formality seemed to have been swept 
away, and in its place reigned the spirit of home freedom. 


When the meal was over the entire family, including the 
transient members paid a visit to old Bet, who was caressed 
with loving hands and showered with praises. 

"I hear that Captain Fok'sle is going to sail his new 
ship, Halcyon, to-night," said Mrs. Goodwill. "I expect a 
large crowd will be there to witness it. Are you going, Mr. 

"Most assuredly I shall go, and so will my friend. 
Though I have never met this inland shipbuilder, I must 
confess I have felt a deep desire to do so. I am afraid now 
the weather will not be propitious for his venture." 

The day passed uneventfully, except that the storm 
predicted by Free Newbegin began to make itself apparent 
on the sky a little before night. Still it was generally 
expected that this ominous warning would not deter the 
the old sailor from undertaking his visionary project, so 
that curious, anxious spectators began to gather on the 
shore of the little inland sea by the time the sun had set. 
Some came prompted solely by curiosity; some came to 
help, if they could, in an affair which they but dimly com- 
prehended; and some came out of pity for the deluded ship- 
builder, with an uneasiness and foreboding of evil they 
made no attempt to understand. Among the last were the 
town claimants. 

This was the first time either of them had seen this won- 
der of the quiet country town and the sight was one neither 
would ever torget. They had seen many vessels in their 
wide travels, hundreds larger than this little, full-rigged 
schooner; hundreds that rode more gracefully at their 
moorings. They had seen them in strange ports, and afloat 
in mid-ocean, but never had they found that craft which 
bore such an air of mystery as this lonely ship fretting with 
her bonds here in this little body of water nearly a hun- 
pred miles from the wooing caress of the salt water breeze. 

The gathering gloom of night veiled her too deeply 
for them to see clearly even her outlines, but her shadow 
showed that her masts were set with a rakish sweep, and 


that she was rigged to bear an enormous top of canvas, 
which was close-reefed now, but in readiness to be flung to 
the rising wind. It was evident, also, that the sunken 
pond, noted for rough waters at times, was breaking into 
one of its most ugly moods. Waves that would have been 
more naturally expected on some larger body of water 
dashed against the shore and retreated with a sullen roar, 
not loud but deep. Owing to the abrupt falling away of 
the shores of the "Old Man's Mirror," this inland vessel 
rode close into the bank; so close that ever and anon she 
bumped against the land. 

"The harbor light!" some one cried, as our heroes 
were trying to discern more minutely the sight before 
them, when they instinctively looked off to the left, toward 
the humble cottage of the^owner of this ship. They saw 
that a bright light had been recently placed so as to send 
its beams out over the waters. Just then a gale of wind 
hurled itself in fury upon the treetops overhead and 
whipped the lakelet into foaming ridges that in turn lashed 
the shore in spiteful fury. 

A lull in the rising gale a few minutes later allowed 
the spectators to catch the sound of feet coming in that 
direction, and after a moment of waiting they discerned 
three figures coming into shape out of the shadows beyond. 
In the semi-darkness Free Newbegin and Leonard Quiver 
distinguished the stalwart figure of a man passing the 
prime of life, though he still carried his herculean form 
erect, as he advanced with the peculiar rolling gait of a man 
who has spent the better years of his manhood on ship- 
board. He held in one hand a stout staff of oaken wood, 
though he did not use it to lean upon or as a gentleman 
would carry a cane, but rather as one used to command 
would handle a weapon of defense. 

A woman a few years his junior, with a sweet face 
saddened with the sorrow of years, walked beside him on 
his right, while on the other hand a woman less than half 
of her age, young and beautiful, but with a countenance 


wet with tears, kept along with him. She was speaking at 
this moment, no one of the three seeming to have discov- 
ered the crowd of curious spectators collected about the 

"Oh, father! I beg of you to go home with mother 
and me. See! the storm is rising. You will — " 

"Cease such prattle, cheeld! Think ye th' auld man 
will sit idle down with his brave lad at the mercy of the 
sea? Ay, ill fares the soul that pales at human duty. 
Stand by, lass, and if ye will stay behind the auld man 
must go alone." 

"No, no! I will go, father. But you, Vinnie, must 
go back. May God spare us all." 

The younger woman screamed and clung to both as if 
she could and would not be separated from either. The 
rising storm grew fiercer and the lowering clouds blacker 
and deeper. Suddenly it came to the minds of our heroes 
what this movement meant to him who should dare to ven- 
ture upon the schooner at this time. More prompt to 
decide upon his course of action than his companion, 
though not more firm in his purpose once the other had 
become aroused to his situation, Free Newbegin stepped 
quickly into the path of the approaching trio, saying to the 

"Hold, old man! you take your life in your hand when 
you step on board of that cockle shell in this land-bound 
water hole." 

Taken completely by surprise at this unexpected inter- 
ruption Captain Forecastle glowered for fully a minute upon 
this stranger before he could recover enough to reply. 
During this brief interval a low murmur of mingled sur- 
prise and approbation came from the awe-stricken beholders 
of this singular tableau. Then the crazed man fairly 

"Avast, ye lubbers! ye that call my ship a cockle 
shell. Stand aside ere I put ye under my belayin' pin!" 

"But you must stop to consider, Captain Forecastle — " 


"Mutiny, by the rock of Gibraltar!" thundered the 
irate skipper. "I'll kill every dog of ye who dares to dis- 
obey my orders," swinging over his head as he spoke the 
heavy stick. 

Thinking that he was about to strike his friend, Leon- 
ard Quiver, who had kept close beside his companion, lifted 
his hand to give him assistance, when the crazed captain 
aimed a blow at his head with all his power. The latter 
dodged so as to escape the full force of the descending 
club, but he was felled at the feet of his friend unconscious. 
Thinking that his associate had been killed, and feeling 
that he was dealing with a desperate man who neither 
knew nor considered the result, our hero seized hold of the 
oak stick, wrenching it from the grasp of the other and 
flinging it far out over the water. With a cry of rage Cap- 
tain Forecastle seemed at first about to tear him limb from 
limb, but he suddenly broke from Newbegin's hold and, 
plunging into the growth skirting the pathway, quickly dis- 
appeared into the night. 

Anxious for the fate of his friend, the former dropped 
upon his knees to make a hasty examination of his condi- 
tion, speedily finding that his heart was still beating, and 
that he would likely soon recover his senses. Meanwhile 
the women, recovering from their fright, joined him in his 
care for the insensible man. Some of the spectators began 
to crowd about the place, until Newbegin commanded them 
to fall back. 

"I do not think he has been hard hit," he said; "he 
will soon come around all right." 

"Who is he?" asked Mrs. Forecastle, who maintained 
a self-oontrol quite remarkable. Her daughter, or more 
properly speaking, her adopted daughter was still trembling 
with fear. Fortunately some one came forward with a lan- 
tern at this moment, and by its aid it was found that the 
blow received by Leonard Quiver was not a very severe 

In the midst of this scene a stentorian voice cried, 


heard plainly above the rising fury of the storm: 

"Let loose the moorings, lads! Fling out the sheets, 
and let her stand bravely out to sea!" 

"It's Cap'en Fok'sle!" declared an onlooker. "He has 
got on board his ship, and is getting away from the shore." 

Other orders to his imaginary followers came from the 
frantic skipper, and it was soon seen that the schooner was 
slowly moving away from the land, her cordage creaking and 
groaning as it was unfurled by him who comprised both 
master and crew. As if to baffle the wild sailor in his mad- 
dening attempt to get away, the storm, now reaching ail 
the violence of an October gale, caused the ill-manned ship 
to reel and plunge headlong into the foaming water that 
had now assumed a frightful and ominous appearance. 
The Old Man's "wash bowl," noted for its tempestuousness 
at times, had never seemed so wild and broken as on this 
night. In the narrow confines of its waters the schooner 
could not long stand up before the wind sweeping down 
from the mountain side with increasing wildness. Huge 
drops of rain, starting out like sweat from the dark brow of 
night, now began to fall. As if fascinated by the wild 
sight the spectators stood along the shore, unable to lift a 
hand if it had been of avail. In a moment the hoarse cry 
reached their ears: 

"Port your helm, lads; lively, too!" 
. Then, pitched in a responsive tone came the reply: 

"Ay, ay, port it is." 

"Steady — so." 

"Ay, ay, steady it is." 

It was difficult for the listeners to realize that the same 
tongue uttered both command and reply, but all knew it 
must be so. And while they stood spell-bound by the 
weird power of the stormy scene, the thunder tone again 
rang above the howling tempest: 

"Cut away the wreckage! Work for your lives, lubbers, 
or we are lost!" 

(Begun in the July, 1906, number; to be continued) 

<m)t O&ritor's TOnboto 

Nathan Hale, writing seventy-five years ago, says: 
"New Hampshire has some singular phrases, one of 
which has acquired celebrity from its being used by Gen- 
eral Miller, who, being asked by the commander-in-chief 
whether he could take a certain fort, replied, 'I'll try.' 
Singular customs of employments likewise discriminate the 
people of different places. Stop a Vinyard sailor or a 
Portsmouth lounger at your door and inquire if the one wants 
a voyage or the other a service — if engaged they will both 
give a short answer, and pass on — if disengaged, and a 
penknife is in the pocket — haste to close your bargain or 
your house will be cut down." 

<©rtgtn of tfje ^eal of tfje ^tate 


An Act to establish a Seal, to be used as the Great 
Seal of. this State. 

Whereas the Committee* appointed by the General 
Court to prepare a device and inscription for a State Seal, 
did on the first day of November last, lay before said 
Court a device, with the following inscription, viz. A field 
encompassed with laurels round the field in capital letters 
on the field a rising sun and a ship on the stocks, with 
American banners displayed, being two inches diameter, 

•The committee consisted of Hons. George Atkinson, John Pickering 
and Maj. Gains, on the part of the House. 


the editor's window 179 

which was then voted to be received and accepted, and accord- 
ingly hath since that time been used as the Great Seal of 
the State; but as doubts have since arisen, whether the 
vote for establishing said Seal was sufficiently explicit; for 
removing such doubts; Therefore. 

Be it enacted by the Senate and Souse of Representa- 
tives in General Court convened: 

That the said Seals with the above recited inscription, 
be fully established and used in all ca^es, as the Great Seal 
of this State, and considered as having been such from 
the first day of November last. 

In Senate Feby. n, 1785. 

The foregoing bill having been read three times, 
Voted: That the same pass to be enacted. Sent down for 

W. J. LANGDON, Prest. P. T. 

In House of Representatives Feby 12, 1785. 
The foregoing bill was read three times and concurred. 
GEO: ATKINSON, Speaker. 


ganfeee Wit 

The following anecdote illustrates the peculiar signifi- 
cance of so-called Yankee wit: 

"I reckon I couldn't drive a trade with you to-day, 
Square,'' said a "ginooine" specimen of a Yankee peddler, 
as he stood at the door of a merchant in St. Louis. 

"I reckon you calculate about right, for you can't," was 
the sneering reply. 

"Well, I guess you needn't git huffy 'bout it. Now 
here's a dozen ginooine razor-strops worth $2.50; you may 
have 'em for $2." 

180 thf editor's window 

"I tell you I don't want any of your traps, so you may 
as well be going along." 

"Wall, now look here, Square, I'll bet you live dollars 
that if you make me an offer for them 'ere strops we'll 
have a trade yet." 

•'Done!" replied the merchant, placing the money in 
the hands of a by-stander, The Yankee deposited a like 

"Now," said the merchant, I'll give you a picayune 
(sixpence) for the strops." 

"They're yourn," said the Yankee, as he quietly 
pocketed the stakes. 

"But," said he, after a little reflection, and with great 
apparent honesty, "I calculate a joke's a joke; and if you 
don't want them strops I'll trade back." 

The merchant's countenance brightened. 

"You are not so bad a chap, after all," said he. "Here 
are your strops. Give me the money." 

"There it is," said the Yankee, as he received the 
strops and passed over the sixpence. "A trade is a trade, 
and now you are wide awake. The next time you trade 
with that 'ere sixpence, you'll do a little better than to buy 
razor strops." 

And away walked the peddler with his strops and his 
WBger, amidst the shouts of the laughing crowd. 


# * 

The first fort captured from the British, in Revolu- 
tionary times, was that at Newport, R. I., when forty 
cannon were seized and carried away on December 6, 1773. 

The first duel in New England was fought June 18, 
162 1, with sword and dagger, between Edward Doty and 
Edward Leicester, two servants, both of whom were 
wounded. They were punished by having their heads and 
feet tied together and being kept without food for twenty- 
four hours. 


The first American to fire a gun on the day of the 
Battle of Lexington was Ebenezer Lock. 

The first degree of D. D. was conferred on Increase 
Mather in 1692. 

Thomas Lote was the first man in this country who 
built a fire engine that was used. 

— Mary L. D. Ferris. 

Utterarp Heabes 

What Can a Young Man Do? By Frank West Rollins; Deco- 
rated cloth, izmo., 339 pages. Little, Brown & Company, publishers, 
Boston. Price, $1.50. For sale in Manchester by Goodman. 

This attractive volume by ex-Governor Rollins is designed to help a 
young man in selecting a calling, and contains a valuable amount of infor- 
mation, not only for this particular seeker after knowledge but to the gen- 
eral reader. To a far greater extent than we are apt to consider does the 
choice of one's vocation decide his failure or success. Many a man who, 
at the meridian of life, looks back upon unfulfilled dreams realizes that 
his failure in life was not caused by his lack of earnest effort but through 
his unfitness for the cailing into which hs fell by accident more than pur- 
pose. Thus a book of this kind, written by one who has carefully studied 
the situation, is worthy of study by every young man. The forty-four 
chapters cover a wide scope of industry, and in addition to the author's 
own summing up of the subject he has had the assistance of specialists in 
different fields. The price of the work places it within the reach of all. 

The Graves We Decorate. Prepared for Memorial Day, 1907, 
by Joseph Foster, a member of Storer Post, Portsmouth, N. H. Octavo, 
76 pages, paper. Price, fifty cents. For sale by the Author. 

This is a record of the Soldiers, Sailors and Marines who served the 
United States of America in the War of the Rebellion, and in other wars, 
buried in the city of Portsmouth, N. H., and in the neighboring towns of 
Greenland, New Castle, Newington and Rye. 

Too much cannot be said in praise of the industry of the author of 
this valuable work. Not only are the names of the soldiers arranged in 
groups alphabetically, but an Appendix containing a list of graves prepared 
in 1893 has brief biographical sketches of many of the patriotic sons of 
Old Strawberry Bank and vicinity. 

The Stars and Stripes and Other American Flags, by Peleg 
Harrison, as it deserves, continues to meet with a good sale. It is seldom 


we find stronger evidence of the thorough stndy of his subject than Mr. 
Harrison Ha? bestowed upon this work. The completeness with which he 
has^overed the field is shown by the following list of chapter captions: 

Origin and Development of the National Standard, Colonial and Pro- 
vincial Flags, Pre-Revolutionary and Revolutionary Flags, The Stars and 
Stripes, Army Flags, Colors, Standards, and Guidons, Special Flags, The 
First Disp'ays of American Flags on Land and Sea, Notable Displays of 
Foreign Flags, The Return of Battle Flags, Flag Making, Flag Display 
Regulations, Salutes, Tributes to the Flag, Honoring the Flag, Flag Legis- 
lation, The Flag of Truce, Displaying Flags at Half-Mast, Improvised 
Flags, Unique Flags, Origin of the Name of "Old Glory," The Name of 
"Old Glory," Secession Flags, The Stars and Ears, The Confederate 
Battle Flag, The Second Confederate Flag, The Third Coufederate Flag, 
Stories of Confederate Flags, Songs and Their Stories, "The Star 
Spangled Banner," The American Flag, Barbara Frietchie, The Bonny 
Blue Flag, The Conquered Banner, The Apron Flag, Index. 

This volume has eight illustrations in colors of the leading flags and 
is published by Little, Brown and Company, Boston. Price, $3. For sale 
in Manchester by Goodman. 

Christy of Rathglin. An Entertaining and Exciting Story of the 
Life of an Irish Lad. By James Riley. Cloth, gilt top, i2mo., illus- 
trated, 343 pages. Price, $1.50 net. C. M. Clark Publishing Company, 
publishers, Boston. For sale in Manchester by Goodman. 

This story opens amid troublesome times in Ireland, and the hero, a 
lad then of only five, finds himself thrown among exciting scenes and the 
excitement of his environments continue to increase as the years roll by. 
Finally the scene changes from the old country to the Cape Cod region, 
where it finds a pleasant denouement. This is a strong story, and leaves 
a wholesome influence upon the reader. 

Some years ago, when Sam Walter Foss was editor of The Yankee 
Blade, once a leader among the many story papers that made Boston their 
home, he received contributions from a western writer named John H. 
Whitson. Strange to say, he returned them with the comment that they 
were "too good" for the readers of The Yankee Blade. Years elapsed, 
and now Mr. Whitson has left the West for the East, to find himself well 
reputed as an author and Mr. Foss ensconsed in the congenial chair of the 
librarian of the Somerville Public Library. Naturally they have met and 
have talked over the days when Mr. Whitson was too good for The 
Yankee Blade. When Mr. Whitson lived in the West he wrote western 
stories, "The Rainbow Chasers," "Justin Wingate, Ranchman," etc., but 
now that he is in New England he has forsaken the plains for the streets 
of New York and Boston. His latest story, "The Castle of Doubt," is a 
fantastic tale of dual personality. 

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Granite ^tate /j©aga?me 

Vol. IV. NOVEMBER, 1907. No. 5. 

^ilforo's Pioneer Pastor 

And His Colonial Homestead 

By Charles B. Heald 

"The great eventful Present hides the Past; but through the din 
Of its loud life hints and echoes from the life behind steal in." 

N EASY walk from Mil ford's busy center up the 
elm-bordered street that overlooks and meets the 
winding Souhegan as it comes down from the Wil- 
ton hills is another of New England's old historic home- 
steads; — a solid type of dignity in brick with wooden ells 
of a later build at either end, and a wide colonial front of 
two stories with a balcony as wide, supported by pillars of 
Doric plainness. A big hospitable door admits to a spa- 
cious corridor that extends midway of the manse, and as 
we enter we seem to leave behind the quickening life of to- 
day to drift back in reality into the quiet and courtly refine- 
ment of ari American home of a century ago. This was 
the abode, for more than fifty years after its building in 
1820, of the Rev. Humphrey Moore, Milford's early pastor, 
a minister typical of all the name implies, of sterling 
worth, not only to the church but to the town and state. 

This noble mansion, having cost over four thousand 
dollars apart from the good pastor's labors, is much the 


■ v 'f- 

188 milford's pioneer pastor 

same as when "Priest" Moore, as he was called, lived here. 
It is now the residence of Carl E. Knight, Esq., with 
whom lives Mrs. Gillis, a surviving sister-in-law of the 
builder. It is largely due to this lady and her daughter, 
Mrs. Knight, that much of the old-time associations have 
been retained. The rooms are large and made cheerful on 
wintry nights by fireplaces. The main hallway is a delight 
to the lover of the quaint, with the antique landscape paper 
on the walls; though put on over sixty years ago, as fresh in 
color and detail as when it came from the French maker. 
On both sides of the long corridor is a picture panorama 
of such wonders as the Natural Bridge and Niagara Falls, 
or a spirited array of a host of straight-laced soldiery on 
martial parade at West Point, "Godey's Fashion Plate" 
like figures in tight-fitting waistcoats and tall hats or gay 
dresses are much in evidence everywhere, on foot, on 
prancing steeds, or in highly decorated coaches drawn by 
dashing Arabians. In fact, if we trust the truthfulness of 
the artist across the water, whom we fear, though, mixed 
his colors too freely with his own native chic, one might be 
led to think that our grandsires were not always the stay- 
at-homes we have thought them to have been. The 
northern end of the hall opens to a balcony that overlooks 
the wide meadow of the Souhegan, once the bed of a 
glacial lake; gentle hills rise to the northward, dotted here 
and there with farms, and on the highest summit is the 
crown-like village of Mont Vernon; from the pine shel- 
tered burial ground by the river's bend to the foothills of 
grand old Monadnock in the sunset land, the scene is one 
of peace and beauty. In the springtime, save a gleam at 
intervals, the river is hidden by a fringe of green that 
turns to rainbow tints as the ripening sun of autumn warns 
the fields that reach down to its low banks of the approach- 
ing harvest. Winter brings to the scene other charms, 
under a coverlid of pure white that glistens and sparkles 
in the morning glow like a mantle of precious gems, or 
changes to a more somber robe in the evening twilight. 

• ■■ 


milford's pioneer pastor 189 

To live for a half century amid such scenes as these, 
characteristic of all New England, came the young pastor 
and his wife. Hannah Peabody, who became Mrs. Moore 
in 1803, a year after her husband's ordination as first pastor 
of the parish, was the granddaughter of William Peabody, 
who came from Boxford, Mass., as early as 1740 and settled 
on the north side of the river, and was undoubtedly the 
first permanent settler to build a home in what is now Mil- 
ford, though the Scotchmen John Burns and John Shep- 
herd, with Benjamin Hopkins, were close followers. Ever 
since the unsuccessful attempt at church building, in 1758, 
near the site of old Monson on Federal Hill, while it was 
yet to pass in and out of the township of Amherst, the 
settlement that was to become Milford was without an 
established ministry. The erection of a church in 1784 had 
not improved matters, as several had been "called" but 
none had responded until the coming of Humphrey Moore. 
From that time, however, ecclesiastical affairs took on a 
different aspect, for Mr. Moore not only became a strong 
ministerial factor, but his executive force at once placed 
him as a leader in the material development of the town. 

Mr. Moore's ordination took place October 13, 1802, 
and was a general holiday of a rather surprising mixture of 
piety and gaiety, for we read that the same band that 
escorted the candidate for ministerial honors furnished 
music during the very midst of his sermon for a dance in 
a nearby hall, and furthermore Captain Osgood with six 
others were detailed to "keep order," a rather necessary 
precaution we think after reading in the records that eight 
others than the regular eight annually permitted were 
licensed '/to sell liquor mixed or otherwise for the day 
before, the day of, and the day after." Judging from an 
account of a previous occasion, the church "raising," when 
"one barrel of rum, two barrels of cider" were provided by 
the committee there could not have been much of a "day 
after." At the time of the coming of the new minister, 
this meeting-house, just mentioned, stood on a grassy 

190 milford's pioneer pastor 

knoll that overlooked the river's bend to the northward. 
This land, known later as the "Oval," was given to the 
parish by William Crosby. Crosby was the son of Capt. 
Josiah Crosby, who had come in 1752 and settled a mile 
out on the Wilton road. William married the daughter of 
John Shepherd, the early settler of 1741, whose grist-mill 
by the Amherst ford was the seed from which grew the 
town. The Shepherd house at the head of Mont Vernon 
street is still standing and is the oldest in the village. 

But one or two houses were on the meeting-house 
green at the incorporation of the town in 1794: one where 
now is the town house, and one at least on what is now the 
Livermore estate. A square wooden building stood on the 
southeast corner. In it was the store of the late William 
Wallace; above the store was a hall, which resounded with 
the merry laughter of gay young folk, dancing out some 
Yankee morris to the merry tune of the band that had 
lately escorted, with solemn step, the new minister to the 
platform erected for the exercises of the day. The pioneer 
scene that greeted the newly ordained pastor, then a young 
man of twenty-four, as he stood on the platform that 
Indian summer afternoon, was a decided contrast to the 
classic environments of Harvard from which he had just 
come. The church in which he was to labor many years 
was still unfinished. It was a plainly boarded structure of 
two and a half stories high without a belfry, though one 
was added the next year. This can be seen to-day in the 
now much altered Eagle Hall, the remodelled old meeting- 
house moved a few rods to the eastward on Union Square. 
The interior was of the same plainness as the outside. 
The pews were square, box-like partitions with seats on all 
four sides and gave only a small part of the congregation a 
direct view of the pulpit. High up at the end was the 
sounding board that was to re-echo many, many times the 
strong, manly voice of the pioneer parson, who now stood 
before the yeomen who had gathered from far and near, 
hardy men and women, represented by such names as 

-^\ , 



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.J- - «>«•«• ;-■>-■.:■... ^ '«.- ■ -*-*: St"^sii^w -V'f 



milford's pioneer pastor 191 

Crosby, Burns, Wallace, Shepherd, Towne, Foster, Jones, 
and Hutchinson, who were building for themselves homes 
along the winding river or on the cleared sides of the valley 
of autumnal beauty, over which the speaker could look far 
to the westward where distant Monadnock was seen in the 
clear, crisp October air as a pyramid of blue lowering over 
a notch in the Temple Hills. 

No wonder that he who had just come among them 
should have caught the inspiration of the moment as he 
looked into the faces before him, that here was to be the 
beginning of his life work. Every one of those gathered 
would become his friends and co-laborers with him in build- 
ing a town foremost in the state for moral and industrial 
worth. Other thoughts of a sterner nature must have 
come to him also, for beyond his attentive listeners w r as a 
scene about the village tavern that must have determined 
the strong temperance attitude that he at once followed, 
first to abolish rum at "raisings" when it took courage for 
even a minister to take such a stand. Humphrey Moore 
later showed the same fighting spirit for right in his attack 
of slavery as a state legislator in 1841. 

Dr. Moore had been elected to this body by the joint 
union of the Whigs and the Anti-Slavery parties, and at 
once became their leader. Amid the strong opposition, 
alone he fought the ablest lawyers of New Hampshire in 
that dark time when human slavery was upheld by both 
church and state. Of his speech on the passing of the 
"Fugitive Slave Act," he writes in his autobiography: 

"A majority of the members had no sympathy with 
the remarks I made. They used very imaginable effort 
to put me 'down. They shuffled and stamped with their 
feet. Some kicked the spit boxes about them. There was 
a roar of confusion. But I was neither intimidated nor 
embarrassed. I raised my voice to the highest pitch and to 
its greatest strength, but it was overwhelmed by a flood of 
mixed noises. ... At length an enraged opponent, to 
sweep me from the floor, called me to order. The speaker 

192 milford's pioneer pastor 

derided that I was in order, and that I might go on. I 
went on till I had finished my speech amidst the clamor of 
the opposition." 

Dumb animals also in the kind doctor had a warm 
friend. The story is told of a meeting of his fellow clergy, 
at which he talked long and earnestly in their behalf, a sort 
of sounding note of the later work done by the Society for 
the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals. After the good- 
hearted pastor had ended, a colleague leaped to his feet 
and exclaimed, "Every jackass in the land would praise 
Brother Moore for these remarks." "Yes," replied the 
quick-witted minister, "but I didn't think, Brother Davis, 
they would be heard from so soon." 

There is no doubt that he of whom we write was a 
minister much abreast of his times. Though he never 
severed from the creeds of Congregationalism, "Priest'' 
Moore's sermons were meant for all, every day lessons 
delivered without flourish, expressed in common language, 
practical talks on the dignity of living and labor. From 
the pulpit he could step to the plow. An ardent lover of 
nature and growing life, he became authority on agri- 
culture, and was one of the first to recognize it as some- 
thing more than the means of just gaining a livelihood. 
His deep study into the matter resulted in his publishing 
in 1822 the first state agricultural report. 

In 1804 began the purchase of the estate of Thaddeus 
Grimes, an early keeper of a tavern on Elm street. Later 
other lands were added until he owned over three hundred 
acres of fertile meadow land along the Souhegan. This 
was known as the "Old Dominie Farm," and even to-day 
the land shows traces of a skilled agriculturist, especially 
so in the magnificent line of wide spreading elms, all of his 
planting, that make an arch of leafy shade tor passers by. 
In 1836 his pastorate of over a third of a century came to 
an end, and the veteran preacher retired to his Elm-street 
home, where he passed away some thirty-five years later, 
April 8, 1 87 1, at the advanced age of ninety-three years, 

milford's pioneer pastor 193 

physically and mentally hale and hardy to the very last, a 
type of the sturdy oak, somewhat bent by the storms of 
years, but not broken until its falling. 

Reverend Moore was twice married, his first wife dying 
in 1830, He subsequently married Mary J. French of 
Bedford, who survived him by a score of years or more. 

Personally, Humphrey Moore was a man of fine 
mental and physical development, a perfect balance of brain 
and muscle. Of commanding presence, he was a leader 
among men. His portrait shows a kindly face but a deter- 
mined mouth, tempered, however, with a smile that denoted 
wit and love of companionship and conversation. A high 
forehead with deep-set eyes marked a thoughtful, keen 
intellect. A slight lisp added quaintness to his bright say- 
ings, which were oft-times repeated, so applicable and to 
the point were they. One will bear the retelling again, as 
it expresses the key-note to his character. St. John's Day, 
1826, was a red-letter event to the Masonic fraternity of 
southern New Hampshire, for Benevolent Lodge was cele- 
brating its removal to Milford, having but just taken abode 
in the very hall over the village store where we saw the 
merry dancers on the day of his ordination. A banquet of 
"pig and punch" was being served in a near-by orchard, 
fragrant with the bloom of apple blossoms, and Minister 
Moore was called upon to offer blessing, though not of the 
craft. Undaunted he arose and gave the laconic response: 
"O Lord we pray for that which we know not. If it be 
good, bleth it. If it be evil, curth it. Amen." This was 
in the same liberal spirit he manifested throughout life, 
ever tolerant beyond those of his generation for others, 
every effort' of his strenuous nature was exerted to its 
utmost to crush wrong-doing in his deep love of God and 
his fellow man. 

By L. J. H. Frost 

Full many a weary year ago, 
Ere white men came to plow and sow 
The land they call the Granite State 
(Home of the noble and the great), 
A beauteous Naiad, fair and wild 
As any wayward, petted child, 
Sought for herself a home to make 
Beneath the waters of some lake. 

She wandered till at last she found 
A valley closely nestled down 
Among the hills. "Now here," said she, 
"I'll make my mansion broad and free." 
Her mantle, then, she quickly took 
And spread it at the mountain's foot; 
When lo! through valley far and near, 
Came the element we call a tear. 

Here, many a long and happy year, 

The Naiad dwelt without a fear; 

At last within her palace deep 

The water spirit fell asleep. 

Now mortals claim her cherished home, 

And freely use it as their own; 

Where late the Naiad danced and sung, 

The steamboat's signal bell is rung. 

They tell us that the lake's fair breast 
Seems sometimes to be ill at rest; 
While 'mid the hills, all still and lone, 
The night winds make a sullen moan; 
And angry billows come and go, 
Their faces pale, ah! white as snow, 
As sadly watch they where she sleeps, — 
The Naiad's lonely vigil keeps: 



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. •:* • 


Cfje Carlp l^opageur 

By George Waldo Browne 

'HE biography of this picturesque character, perhaps 
the most unique in American history, takes us 
back to the days when the primeval forest was 
pathless and its silence unbroken save by the warwhoop of 
some dusky Amerind, the slow-curling smoke of his lonely 
bark dwelling the only representative of a human habita- 
tion .Since that day, not so very far removed, a new order 
of events has dawned, and the towns of a civilized people 
have risen where the lonely hunter once builded his camp- 
fire, and the church spires of a Christian race proclaim to 
God and man the brighter dispensation reared upon the 
ruins of paganism. 

The way for this more promising existence was led by 
those bold associates of the fur-traders known as the Can- 
adian voyageurs. They were quick to see the possibilities 
-of the rich gamelands of the interior at a period when the 
only other source of great revenue of profit was the fishing- 
grounds, and they were swift to improve the opportunity. 
First, trading stations were established on or near the 
St. Lawrence River, and the Indian hunters were obliged 
to become the movers of their furs. As the business grew 
trading posts were established farther up the tributaries of 
"the great river," and then was begun that series of haz- 
ardous voyages by the men who undertook to bring to 
market these great inland stocks in trade. 

These boatmen v. ere sometimes of Indian blood, more 
often half-breeds, and yet more frequently men of French- 
Norman or Breton descent. Whichever the class it could 
be safely counted that they became inured through years 
of training to the wild, perilous vocation, and that they 



looked lightly upon the risks that became in reality a part 
of their lives. Thus they became seasoned to the rigors 
of the climate, and thoroughly toughened to the hardships 
of their voyages. No danger was too great to daunt thein; 
no suffering too keen to rob them of their freedom of spirits. 

The dress of these nomads of river and forest consisted 
of a cotton shirt, made lively by bright colors, cloth 
trousers and leather leggins, with deer-skin moccasins for 
the feet. This garb was rendered more picturesque by the 
scarlet capot, or small cloak, worn lightly over the 
shoulders, each movement of the wearer marked by the 
gentle lifting and falling of the garment in graceful imita- 
tion of the owner. A wide, worsted belt with flowing ends 
banded the waist of the man, from which were suspended a 
stout knife and tobacco pouch. In case he belonged to one 
of the numerous brigades that from time to time followed 
with system the calling, he would wear affixed to his cap a 
feather of the favorite color of his band. 

The canoe was builded with a view to its lightness as 
well as its strength and durability, and one of these crafts, 
capable of bearing several hundred weight, could be trans- 
ported over the portages that frequently made broken links 
in their journeys, upon the shoulders of its owner. Of 
course, there were heavier boats for moving greater loads 
of freight, some of these being equal to carrying from three 
to four ton burden. 

The starting of one of these parties of river-boatmen 
was an event celebrated by a feast given by their friends 
and families, hallowed by the presence of wives, children, 
and sweethearts, when at their close many a tear was shed 
and husky farewell spoken with a hopeful bon voyage. 
The ordeal of separation over the voyageurs quickly threw 
off the spell of thoughtful sadness, and as the boat was 
propelled against the stream one would strike up chanson 
de voyage, speedily joined by his companions, until the 
welkin would ring with the song which made up in volume 
what it may have lacked in melody. 


The songs of the voyageurs were invariably selected 
with regard to the fitness of their situation and surround- 
ings. Were the boat struggling against the current of one 
of the many rifts of these rapid streams, the foam upon the 
water was no surer indication of the approach to some fur- 
ious cataract than the quickening notes of the singer and 
the increased volume of the song, ringing with the zest of 
men ready to do and dare all. If the arms of the rowers 
weakened, or spirits flagged, some gay song fervid with 
new-born activity, or burning with love, would be opened, 
and swiftly the tired limbs would respond to the airy in- 
spiration of the singers. And ever the paddles kept time 
to the notes of the singers. 

At the upper end of these journeys the voyageurs 
reached a rendezvous, .where a large wooden building had 
been erected by the fur-traders to accommodate them, as 
well as a storage for the peltry brought in by those dusky 
hunters known as the coureurs de bois, another class as 
wild or wilder than the voyageurs themselves. Here, a 
feast outrivalling that given at the start was prepared, the 
most select viands from nature's store-house of game being 
furnished, while the passions of the reckless partakers were 
loosened by the flowing bowl, until it seemed as if the 
fiends from regions infernal had been let loose. 

Then, the cargoes already loaded, and everything in 
readiness for the return voyage, the last toasts were drunk, 
the parting hand-shakes given, when the voyageurs would 
again give themselves over to the mercy of the elements. 
If loaded with furs, they were now assisted in their pas- 
sage by the current, while their songs rang with the air of 
joyous expectation of reaching home and meeting loved 
ones : 

"The river runs free, 
The west wind is clear, 
And my love is calling to me." 

There was not a stream of any size in Canada which 
was not followed by the boats of these hardy rivermen, 


but the Saguenay and the Ottawa are the most eloquent 
with the story of their hardships, and many a lonely spot 
is marked by some cross telling with its silent tongue the 
fate of one of their number. Among the most dangerous 
and exciting sections of their journeys was that portion of 
the Ottawa where it is blocked by two long islands known 
as the Calumet and the Allumette. 

Despite its anticipated perils the voyageurs were never 
as happy as when they were well started upon some long 
voyage into the interior of the unknown country, stemming 
the angry tide of the rapid river, bearing upon their 
shoulders their canoes with all their freight, around some 
rift that-could not be conquered; anon gliding silently over 
the glassy surface of an inland sheet of water, camping 
when Night softly drew her curtain upon the primeval 
scene by its shore, the deep melody of their songs blending 
with merriment and pathos wafted far and wide upon the 
invisible wings of the summer zephyrs that to-day, a cent- 
ury and a half later, alone keep alive the memory of those 
careless, adventure-loving followers of the fur-trade, whose 
history has passed into legend, and whose deeds belong to 
a calling that has vanished. 

Castles m tfje Bit 

By Harry Romaine 

With frescoes and costly gildings; 

With tapestries soft and rare, 
I have furnished those noble buildings- 

My Castles in the Air. 

But I turn from the halls that glitter, 
And sparkle with every gem, 

For I know that his lot is bitter, 
Who tries to live in them. 


^laberp tn j^eto Cfampsfjire 

By Isaac \V. Hammond 

EGRO slavery was never established in New Hamp- 
shire by any law of the province or state, nor was 
it ever abolished by any legislative enactment. 
A province law enacted in 1714 forbade the importation or 
bringing into the province by sea or land any male or 
female Indian of any age to be used as a servant or slave' 
The caption of said act alleges that "Notorious crimes and 
enormities have of late been perpetrated and committed by 
Indians and other slaves within several of Her Majesty's 
Plantations in America," and that it "is a discouragement 
to the Importation of White Christian servants." The 
word servants here undoubtedly means paid laborers, some 
of whom had their transportation expenses paid on their 
arrival here by residents of the province who desired their 
services; in consideration whereof they agreed to serve for 
a specified time for no further pay except a proper amount 
of food and clothing. Negro slavery existed in New 
Hampshire to a limited extent during the last century; 
during the closing decade thereof probably none were 
forcibly detained, and only those remained in enforced ser- 
vice who were advanced in years, and who by reason of 
kind and humane treatment, and the assurance of being 
cared for in their old age preferred to do so. By the 
census of 1767 the number of "negros and slaves for life" 
was 633; in. 1773, 681; in 1775, 449, and in 1790 the num- 
ber of slaves was 158. It is uncertain whether the enumer- 
ation given under the heading as quoted included free 
negroes, but I am strongly of opinion that it did, and that 
the number held in actual slavery was much less than those 
figures represent. The fact that there is no comma after 




the word negros in the original heading is no proof of the 
unity of the heading, as it is well known that the people of 
that time were no more proficient in punctuation than 
those of to-day. 

The census of 1790 was more explicit, having one 
column for "Other free persons" (meaning undoubtedly 
free colored persons) and another for "slaves." In 1779 an 
attempt was made to secure the passage of an act granting 
freedom to the slaves. The matter was presented to the 
legislature in the form of an ably drawn petition, dated 
November 12, 1779, to which the names of nineteen negro 
slaves were signed. 

The date of that document is several years earlier than 
that of the convention which produced the Federal Consti- 
tution, and I have copied it entire from the original pre- 
served in the state archives. It is as follows: 


To the Honorable, the Council and House of Representatives of 
said state, now sitting at Exeter, in and for said state: 

The petition of the subscribers, natives of Africa, now forcibly 
detained in slavery in said state most humbly shcwetk, That the God of 
nature gave them life and freedom, upon the terms of the most perfect 
equality with other men; That freedom is an inherent right of the human 
species, not to be surrendered, but by consent, for the sake of social life; 
That private or public tyranny and slavery are alike detestable to minds 
conscious of the equal dignity of human 'nature; That in power and 
authority of individuals, derived solely from a principle of coercion, 
against the will of individuals, and to dispose of their persons and prop- 
erties, consists the completest idea of private and political slaver}-; That 
all men being ameniable to the Deity for the ill-improvement of the bless- 
ings of His Providence, they hold themselves in duty bound strenuously 
to exert every faculty of their minds to obtain that blessing of freedom, 
which they are justly entitled to from that donation of the beneficent 
Creator; That through ignorance and brutish violence of their native 
countrymen, and by the sinister designs of others (who ought to have 
taught them better), and by the avarice of both, they, while but chil- 
dren, and incapable of self-defence, whose infancy might have prompted 
protection, were seized, imprisoned, and transported from their native 
country, where (though ignorance and unchristianity prevailed) they were 


born free, to a country where (though knowledge, Christianity and freedom 
are their boast) they are compelled and their posterity to drag on their 
lives in miserable servitude; Thus often is the parent's cheek wet for the 
loss of a child, torn by the cruel hand of violence from her aching bosom: 
Thus, often and in vain is the infant's sigh for the nurturing care of its 
bereaved parent, and thus do the ties of nature and blood become victims 
to cherish the vanity and luxury of a fellow mortal. Can this be right? 
•Forbid it gracious Heaven. 

Permit again your humble slaves to lay before this honorable assem- 
bly some of those grievances which they daily experience and feel- 
Though fortune hath dealt out our portion with rugged hand, yet hath she 
smiled in the disposal of our persons to those who claim us as their 
property; of them we do not complain, but from what authority they 
assume the power to dispose of our lives, freedom and property; 
we would wish to know. Is it from the sacred volume of Christi- 
anity? There we believe it is not to be found; but here hath the cruel 
hand of slavery made us incompetent judges, hence knowledge is hid 
from our minds. Is it from the volumes of the laws? Of these also 
slaves cannot be judges, but those we are told are founded on reason 
and justice; it cannot be found there. Is it from the volumes of nature? 
No, here we can read with others, of this knowledge, slavery cannot 
wholly deprive us; here we know that we ought to be free agents; here we 
feel the dignity of human nature; here we feel the passions and desires of 
men, though checked by the rod of slavery; here we feel a just equality 
here we know that the God of nature made us free. Is their authority 
assumed from custom? If so let that custom be abolished, which is not 
founded in nature; reason nor religion. Should the humanity and benev- 
olence of this honorable assembly restore us that state of liberty of which 
we have been so long deprived, we conceive that those who are our pres- 
ent masters will not be sufferers by our liberation, as we have most of us 
spent our whole strength and the prime of our lives in their service; and 
as freedom inspires a noble confidence and gives the mind an emulation 
to vie in the noblest efforts of enterprise, and as justice and humanity are 
the result of your deliberations, we fondly hope that the eye of pity and 
the heart of justice may commiserate our situation, and put us upon the 
equality of freemen, and give us an opportunity of evincing to the world 
our love of freedom by exerting ourselves in her cause, in opposing the 
efforts of tyranny and oppression over the country in which we ourselves 
have been so long injuriously enslaved. 

Therefore, Your humble slaves most devoutly pray for the sake of 
injured liberty, for the sake of justice, humanity and the rights of mankind, 
for the honor of religion and by all that is dear, that your honors would 
graciously interpose in our behalf, and enact such laws and regulations, as 
you in your wisdom think proper, whereby we may regain our liberty and 


be ranked in the class of free agents, and that the name of slave may not 
more be heard in a land gloriously contending for the sweets of freedom. 
And your humble slaves as in duty bound will ever pray. 

Portsmouth Nov. 12, 1779. 

Nero Brewster, Pharaoh Rogers, Romeo Rindge, 

Seneca Hall, Cate Newmarch, Peter Warner, 

Cesar Gerrish, Pharaoh Shores, Zebulon Gardner, 

Winsor Moffatt, . Quam Sherburne, Garrett Cotton, 

Samuel Wentworth, Kittridge Tuckerman, Will Clarkson, 

Peter Frost, Jack Odiorne, Prince Whipple. 
Cipio Hubbard, 

The foregoing petition was read in the house of repre- 
sentatives, April 25, 1780, and a hearing appointed for the 
next session, of which the petitioners were to give public 
notice by publication in the JSTew Hampshire Gazette. 

In this action the council concurred. 

That matter was again before the house on Friday, 
June 9, 1780, and was disposed of in the manner shown by 
the following extract from their daily journal. 

"Agreable to the order of the day the petition of Nero 
Brewster and others, negro slaves, praying to be set free 
from slavery, being read, considered and argued by counsel 
for petitioners before this House, it appears to this House 
that at this time the house is not ripe for a determination in 
this matter: Therefore, ordered that the further consider- 
ation and determination of the matter be post poned to a 
more convenient opportunity." I find no further mention 
of the matter in the journals of the legislature, and it was 
probably not again considered by that body. 

The constitution of this state, as adopted in 1784, 
declares, that "All men are born equally free and indepen- 
dent," and-that declaration has been construed by some to 
have prohibited the holding in slavery any person born sub- 
sequent to that date. The sentiment contained in this 
extract was obviously borrowed from the Declaration of 
Independence of 1776, and I question its having been used 
with any reference to negro slavery, in either case. There 
were less than 150 slaves in New Hampshire in 1792, and 



there is a strong probability that most if not all of them 
were in that position voluntarily, for reasons before stated. 
Had any persons been held in slavery against their own 
wills at that time, it is reasonably certain that the matter 
would have been considered by the constitutional con- 
vention held in that year. Public opinion in the state 
demanded its extinction, and in obedience thereto it grad- 
ally died out; those who were aged and preferred to remain 
in the families they had served for years were permitted to 
do so, and were cared for until they died. 

The subject was before the legislature of this state on 
one subsequent occasion, and an act approved June 26, 
1857, provided that no person should be deprived of the 
right of citizenship in this state on account of colo or 
because such person had been a slave. The act also pro- 
vided, that any slave who shall come into this state with 
the consent of his master or mistress, or who shall come 
or be brought into or be in this state involuntarily shall be 
free. Any person who held or attempted to hold a person 
in slavery, to be deemed guilty of felony, and on conviction 
to be confined to hard labor not less than one, nor more 
than five years. Provided, that the law should not apply 
to any act lawfully done by a United States officer, or 
other person in the execution of any legal process. 

31n tfje ^etu i^ampsfjire Cftlte 

By Selden L. Whitcomb 

The shifting shadows mingle 

With sunlight on Mount Carr; 
. The drowsy cowbells tinkle 
On pasture slopes afar. 

The cheery swifts are circling 
Across the cloud and clear, 
Through all the oaks and beeches 
Lament the dying year. 


Down in the sleeping valley, 
Lie ripened fields of corn, 

O'er rock and pebble murmurs 
The river, mountain-born. 

The goldfinch still is wearing 
His summer black and gold, 

And in the glowing maple 
The red-eye's tune is bold. 

Beyond the pasture border 
Of lichen-covered wall, 

Within the woodland shelter, 
The merry chipmunks calk 

The thistle-sprites are sailing 
Across the fragrant ferns, 

On golden-rod and milkweed 
The bumble-bees take turns. 

Grasshopper and cicada 

Are offering a tune 
To the spirit of the summer 

And the lazy afternoon. 

Prone by a granite boulder, 
I dream, forget and rest, 

Till human toil seems evil, 
And life with Nature best. 

Alas, alas, for the passing 
Of days so rare and sweet, 

Alas for the heedless city, 
The fever heat of the street. 

My heart, my heart, remember, 
Through coming grief and ills, 

This hour when God was near thee, 
Upon New Hampshire hills? 

Colonel 3!ame$ ftogers 

Ranger and Loyalist 

By Walter Rogers, B. A., Barrister, Inner Temple, London, Eng. 

From time to time we purpose to give sketches of the men who were 
active in the early New England wars, as a prelude to the series of articles 
to appear, as soon as they can be prepared, upon New Hampshire in the 
French and Indian Wars. Thus we gladly give place to the following 
address, read before the United Empire Loyalists' Association of Ontario, 
at Toronto, December 14, 1S99, by Lieut.-Col. H. C Rogers of Peter- 
borough, Ontario. — Editor. 

/^j^HE somewhat tardy justice which has been done 
' yj M to the memory of the Loyalists of the American 
"^ Revolution, although not, perhaps, directly attrib- 
utable to the spirit of imperialism now afoot, has, in point 
of time, coincided not inappropriately with that movement. 
In his monumental work on the history of England in 
the eighteenth century, Mr. Lecky's estimate of the char- 
acter and position of the so-called Tories in the revolted 
colonies, has found a sufficiently ungrudging echo in the 
pages of not a few recent historical writers on this conti- 
nent. In truth, Mr. Lecky's contention, "that the Loyal- 
ists to a great extent sprang from and represented the 
old gentry of the country," could, in the light of modern 
research, hardly be denied. American scholars of the type 
of Professor Hosmer of Washington, and Professor Tyler 
of Cornell, have amply, indeed generously, recognizad this 
fact. It is to be regretted that the results of a century of 
misrepresentation concerning the Loyalists are still reflected 
in the tone of the more popular works on history dissem- 
. inated in the United States. It was, perhaps, to be expected 
that the representatives of a beaten cause could hardly 
look for panegyric at the hands of the owners of the con- 



fiscated property and their immediate descendants. The 
great migration which ensued upon the rebellion has been 
more than once compared, both in the magnitude of its 
scale and the pathos of its circumstances, with the Hugue- 
not exodus from France a century earlier. 

The efforts of this and of other kindred societies in 
the Dominion should do much towards supplying material 
for future students of the inner history of the Loyalist 
migration. A few facts drawn, in so far as they are new, 
from documentary sources in the British Museum,* and 
from the War Office Correspondence! now preserved at 
the Record office in London, may possibly prove not unin- 
teresting, as a humble contribution towards the better 
understanding of the circumstances which attended the 
early settlement of part of this Province. 

The founder of my own family in Upper Canada was 
my great-great-grandfather, Col. James Rogers. During 
the revolutionary war he had served for five years as com- 
mandant of a corps known as the King's Rangers, which 
during that time, formed part of the garrison of St. 
Johns, Quebec. This post commanded the northern outlet 
of the great waterway which connects the valley of the 
Hudson with that of the St. Lawrence. At the Peace, my 
ancestor settled with some two hundred of his disbanded 
soldiers upon the shores of the Bay of Ouinte, he and his 
followers occupying what is known as the township of 
Fredericksburg (as well as part of an adjoining township). t 

The earliest recorded connection of this officer with 
Canada, however, dates from a quarter of a century earlier 
than the settlement Of that part of the so-called Seven 

*Brit. Mus: Add. MSS. — 21,820. Haldimand Papers: Correspond- 
ence with Col. Rogers and Major Rogers. 

tWar Office, Original Correspondence, No. 5: Rogers' King's Rang- 
ers — Field Officers' Papers — 1779-1784. 

JCanniff page 62. 



Years' War which was waged upon this continent, he saw 
service from the commencement to the close.* 

As a captain in command of a detachment of his more 
famous brother, Robert Rogers' regiment — serving, how- 
ever, independently of the main body — he took part in the 
campaigns in Cape Breton and Canada, under Wolfe and 
Amherst. He was present at the successive captures of 
Louisbourg, Quebec and Montreal; the steps by which 
Canada passed from French to English rule. 

Before Montreal, the army of the St. Lawrence, in 
which he was acting, was joined by the forces from the 
south, in whose campaigns the main body of Rogers' 
Rangers, eight hundred strong, under the command of his 
brother Robert, had played a somewhat conspicuous part. 

Upon the capitulation of Montreal and the cession of 
Canada, this latter officer was despatched by the com- 
mander-in-chief upon the first British expedition, as such, 
up the great lakes. With two hundred of his rangers and 
a staff of executive officers, Robert Rogers made the 
voyage, in whaleboats, from Montreal to Detroit. The 
successive French posts upon the route were visited; the 
white standard of the Bourbons was replaced by the flag of 
Great Britain, and allegiance to His Britannic Majesty 

The story of this voyage has often been told, notably 
in the Major's own military journals published in London 
in _ 1765, a work which, with its companion volume, an 
account of North America, betraying an intimate knowl- 
edge of the continent from Labrador to the mouth of the 
Mississippi, has ever since been regarded as a valuable 
authority upon the geographical history of this country. 

With the early and more brilliant part of the career of 
Robert Rogers,, whose exploits as a partisan or light-infan- 
try officer fill a large space in the history of the French 
and Pontiac Wars, we are not here immediately concerned. 

♦Haldimand, MSS., J. R. to Haldimand, October 20, 1779. 



He has been the object of enthusiastic praise and of no less 
virulent detraction. 

It is, however, a source of what, I trust, you will not 
regard as altogether unpardonable pride to my family and 
myself, that one of our name should have been thus inti- 
mately concerned in a transaction which was virtually the 
inception, as part of the British Dominion, of what is now 
the Province of Ontario, — a province which, from its earli- 
est settlement, has been our home. 

The interval between the close of the Seven Years' 
War, or, rather, of the Pontiac War, in which he also 
bore a part, and the revolt of the Colonies, was occu- 
pied by my great-great-grandfather, James Rogers, in the 
building up of an estate in that part of the Province of 
New York which was subsequently erected into the State 
of Vermont. Partly by grant as a reward for his services, 
and partly by purchase, he acquired what was, in extent, a 
very considerable property, scattered from twenty miles 
west of the Connecticut River to the shores of Lake 
Champlain. The crown patent for some 22,000 acres of 
this estate in Windham County is still in the possession of 
the family. We know from a letter in the Haldimand Cor- 
respondence, dated 1780, that the value he placed upon his 
property in the colonies was between thirty and forty thou- 
sand pounds.* Frequent references in the same corre- 
spondence show that the position he had occupied in Ver- 
mont, previously to the revolution, was one of influence and 
authority. The respect in which he was held in the coun- 
try that had formerly been his home is testified to by the 
fact that even after the Peace, viz.: in the spring of 1784, 

♦The picture which Sir George Trevelyan has drawn, in his recent 
volume on the American revolution, of the Utopian condition of colonial 
society in the days immediately preceding the rebellion, although perhaps 
too highly coloured, is not without considerable foundation in fact. The 
Strong pro-American tone of the volume is perhaps only what was to be 
expected from the nephew of Macaulay and from the depositary par excel- 
lence of the Whig tradition. 


he had been invited by the leading men of the state to pay 
a visit to Vermont in order to facilitate the removal of his 
wife and family to their new home in the British Dominions. 

Notwithstanding the efforts of his friends, the recep- 
tion which he met with was not unmixed with insult at the 
hands of the owners of the confiscated property, who now- 
grasped the helm; and the good man's surprise and horror 
at the state of anarchy prevailing are depicted in his 
letter to the commander-in-chief on his return to his regi- 
ment at St. Johns. 

Between the close of the French and Indian Wars, 
and until after the outbreak of the American revolution, 
the other brother, Robert Rogers, spent most of his time 
in England. Here his various books were published* and 
here he enjoyed a very considerable notoriety. In old 
magazines of the period, amidst chronicles of the time, his 
exploits and his books find frequent mention. t The story 
of his prowess in the single-handed capture of a highway- 
man went the round of the taverns. His portrait in full 
Ranger uniform, with Indians in the background, adorned 
the windows of the print-shops, and was even reproduced 
in Germany. His tall figure, in half-pay officer's uniform, 
became a not unfamiliar object in the Court quarter of the 
town. He undoubtedly enjoyed the patronage and favour 
of the King. One of his enemies, writing in 1770 to Sir 
William Johnson, complains that "Robert Rogers has the 
ear of the court; that many of the great are pushing for 
him; and that Mr. Fitzherbert, an officer high in the house- 
hold of George III., is his particular friend." Indeed, t to 

♦Journals of Major Robert Rogers — London, 1765, 8vo. 
A Concise Account of North America by Major Robert Rogers. 
London, 1765, 8vo. Dublin, 1770. i2mo. 
Ponteach — A Tragedy — London, 1776. 

tGentlemen's Magazine: — 1758, March, August, October; 1760, No- 
vember, December; 1765, December. 

London Monthly Review, xxxiv-9-22-242. 

JJohnson MSS., xviii, 185-186. 


to the end he seems to have enjoyed the not entirely 
unequivocal distinction of King George's approbation. 
Lord George Germaine, writing to General Howe as late 
as 1776, says, ''The King approves the arrangement you 
propose, in respect to an adjutant-general and a quarter- 
master-general, and also your attention to Major Rogers, 
of whose firmness and fidelity we have received further 
testimony from Governor Tyron."* 

George III.'s choice of instruments at this period, 
notably in the case of Lord Georget himself, as Secretary 
for the Colonies, is not generally regarded as betraying 
exceptional political sagacity. 

Notwithstanding the royal favour, which does not seem 
to have been alienated even by his alleged eccentricity in 
appearing for a wager, on one occasion, at the King's levee, 
in the buckskin gaiters worn by rangers during their wood- 
land campaigns, Robert Rogers was probably more at 
home in the society of soldiers of fortune, where his 
prowess as a boon compauion and raconteur was doubtless 

In 1772 we find him writing from his lodgings at 
Spring Gardens, Charing Cross.! Soon after that, his 
superfluous energies found vent in foreign warfare. A 
true Captain Dalgetty, he fought in Northern Africa in the 
Algerine service. We know from a letter of Washington's 
that he was assigned to service in the East Indies, § when 
the outbreak of hostilities in America recalled him to the 
scene of his earlier activities. That he arrived in America 
with an open mind is not impossible. Unlike his less bril- 

' 'American Archives, Fourth Series, iv, 575. 

tLord George Germaine, better known by his former name, Lord 
George Sackville, was the officer who, in command of the English cavalry 
at Minden, in a fit of spleen refused to charge and so marred the com- 
pleteness of Prince Ferdinand's victory. 

IJohnson MSS., xxi, 238. 

§ Spark's "Washington," iii, 440. 


liant but more substantial brother James, he was probably 
not the man to suffer gladly for a principle. 

The conduct of the rebels, however, forced him pre- 
maturely into the service which would, probably, in any 
event have ultimately claimed him. Arrested shortly 
after his landing at Philadelphia, by order of the Pennsyl- 
vania Committee of Public Safety, he was submitted to 
the disposal of congress. This body ordered his release 
on parole. His position as a half-pay officer, however, and 
his long identification with the royal service attracted the 
suspicion of the more violent Whigs, who clamoured for his 
re-arrest, which was ultimately decided upon. The indig- 
nity of this second arrest was treated by him as a virtual 
release from his parole. Consigned by the Continental 
Congress as a prisoner to be dealt with by the New Hamp- 
shire Assembly, he was fortunate enough to effect his 
escape. Received within the English lines, he was offered 
by the commander-in-chief, General Howe, the commission 
of colonel in the British service, which offer he accepted. 

With remarkable celerity he succeeded in raising the 
regiment so honourably known in the history of the revolu- 
tion as the Queen's Rangers. This corps, to which very fre- 
quent reference has been made in the transactions of this 
Society, played, under his successor in the command,Colonel, 
afterwards Lieutenant-General Simcoe,a conspicuous part in 
the war, and subsequently in the settlement of Upper Canada. 
Broken in health and possibly enfeebled by a life of dissipa- 
tion, a tendency to which seems to have been his real moral 
weakness, he retired from his command in the following 
winter and returned to England. The evil example of dissi- 
pation and high play set at the headquarters camp between 
Bedford and Amboy, in the winter of 1776-jj, was not 
without its effect upon the morale of the army. Bancroft 
even attributes the failure to crush Washington at Valley 
Forge in the following winter to the eager pursuit of pleas- 
ure which distinguished Howe's command. 

Meanwhile the Revolution ran its course. The singu- 



lar incapacity which marked the conduct of the English 
arms, almost throughout, was responsible for reverse after 
reverse. Spasdmodic efforts to reinforce the army in 
America were made and, as the result of one of these, 
Robert Rogers arrived at New York in 1779 with instruc- 
tions from home that he was to be again employed. 

On May 1st, 1779, he was commissioned by Sir Henry 
Clinton, Howe's successor in the command-in-chief, to 
raise a regiment of two battalions to be known as the King's 
Rangers. One battalion seems to have been destined for 
service in the Province of Quebec; the other for Halifax. 
In this regiment his brother James was gazetted major. 
A document in the War Office Correspondence shows that 
James Rogers's appointment dated June 2nd, 1779, 
although there was a still earlier commission to the same 
rank dated May 1st, 1778. Recruiting parties were sent out 
into the northern colonies, and a ship was chartered by 
government for the conveyance to Quebec of Major James 
Rogers and eleven officers* gazetted to the new corps. 
This vessel, the brigantine "Hawke," — Capt. Slaitor, — 
arrived at Quebec in September, 1779. The colonel, Rob- 
ert Rogers, with a staff of officers, was conveyed in 
H. M. S. "Blond" to Penobscot. There he was present at 
the naval engagement in which the rebel fleet was destroyed 
August 13, 1779. 

Meanwhile, with the accustomed mismanagement at 
headquarters, no definite instructions were sent to General 
Haldimand, Commander-in-chief in Canada, as to the 
embodiment of the new corps. So early as May 24th, 1779, 
Lord RaWdon, — afterwards Lord Hastings, Governor-Gen- 
eral of India, — then acting as Adjutant-General to Clinton, 
wrote to Haldimand, indicating the probable appearance of 
Col. Robert Rogers within the latter's command. With 

♦Most of these were from one cr another of the five battalions of 
General Skinner's brigade. Two are described as from the Queen's 


official dread of exceeding his instructions, and fearful of 
provoking animosities regarding recruiting in the other 
corps in the province, Haldimand hesitated how to act. 

Meanwhile, the numerous recruits coming in by the 
overland route, consigned to the King's Rangers, had to 
be subsisted as best they might out of .the unfortunate 
major's own pocket. Ultimately, however, and upon his 
own authority, Haldimand placed the corps upon his own 
establishment. A scale of half-pay was arranged, and the 
Hangers were clothed in the regulation green uniforms of 
the provincial corps. From this time forward the King's 
Rangers garrisoned the post of St. Johns, sharing the bar- 
racks there at first with the Thirty-Fourth and, subse- 
quently, with the Twenty-Ninth Regiments of foot.* 

The correspondence of James Rogers with the com- 
mander-in-chief in Canada, from 1779 to 1784, is still pre- 
served in the British Museum, and, together with fugitive 
letters of Robert Rogers, fills a substantial folio volume of 
manuscript. The "Field Officers Letters of Rogers' 
King's Rangers" are in the Record Office, London, removed 
there from the War Office Archives. The light which 
these old documents throw upon the military history of the 
time is a curious one. The chief difficulties in the admin- 
istration of the corps seem to have arisen concerning the 
matter of recruiting and the intermingling of the accounts 
with those of Halifax, where the other detachment of the 
regiment was stationed. For the rest, James Rogers' rela- 

*The army in Canada in 1781 consisted of the following troops: The 
Eighth, Twenty-Ninth, Thirty-First, Thirty-Fourth, Forty-Fourth, Fifty- 
Third, 150 men o'f the Forty-Seventh, a battalion of the Eighty- Fourth or 
Maclean's Highland Emigrants, Sir John Johnson's Royal Regiment, of 
New Yoik, Jessuo's Loyal Rangers, formerly the Loyal Americans, and 
Rogers' King's Rangers. In addition to the above were the German 
troops, consisting chiefly of Brunswickers and Hessians. General Reid- 
esel, in a plan communicated to Clinton, about this time, for operations 
against the Ohio and Alleghany regions, estimates the total effective 
strength in Canada at six thousand men. — Max Von Eckling's Memoir of 
Major- General Riesdesel. 


tions with his commander-in-chief are excellent. Repeated 
testimony to the confidence felt in his integrity at head- 
quarters occurs in the correspondence. His long appren- 
ticeship to warfare, his intimate knowledge of the country 
and undoubted zeal for the King's service contributed to 
his usefulness at this frontier post. Various schemes of 
reconnaisance and attack were, from time to time, sub- 
mitted by him for His Excellency's consideration and 
approved. His advice is asked and taken. On more than 
one occasion he seems to have been employed, where a 
field officer's services were demanded, upon missions of 
delicacy and importance. The growing despondency as to 
the issue of the war is apparent as time goes on. Incre- 
dulity as to the truth of the surrender at Yorktown is suc- 
ceeded by consternation when the news of the disaster is 
confirmed. At last, in November, 1783, the King's order 
for the disbanding of the loyalist troops arrives. It is 
accompanied by extracts from Lord North's letters respect 
ing the allotment of lands to the provincial troops and 
refugee loyalists then in the Province of Quebec. 

Throughout the winter of 1783-34, preparations are 
made for the move westward in the following year. In the 
early spring, my great-great-grandfather paid that last visit 
to his former home, allusion to which has been made above. 
His wife, a daughter of the Rev. David Mcgregor of Lon- 
donderry, N. H.,* accompanied him on his return, to renew 
in the northern forests that life of exile which had been the 
lot of her family earlier in the century. Upon his return 
to St. Johns, leave is asked on behalf of a number incor- 
porated and unincorporated loyalists, that an officer of the 
King's Rangers and a detachment of ten or a dozen men 
may go to Cataraqui to reconnoitre. A pathetic touch, 
betraying the ignorance and bewilderment of those dis- 
tracted times, occurs, where the commanding officer notifies 
the commander-in-chief of a report which he had come 

♦See History of Londonderry. 


upon "amongst our common men, that the major was going 
to have them taken to Cataraqui and there made slaves." 
Notwithstanding this alarming suggestion, confidence 
seems to have been restored; and most of the King's 
Rangers accompanied their old commander in that heroic 
advance into the wilderness, in search of a new home. 
Several of the officers remained at St. Johns, buying the 
ground on which their late barracks stood. 

The tale of how the final allotment of the territory in 
the Frontenac district was made is set out in Grass's narra- 
tive,* preserved by Dr. Ryerson. Grass, the pioneer of 
the district, chose the first township for his followers, 
Kingston; Sir John Johnson, the second, Ernesttown; 
Colonel Rogers, the third, Fredericksburg; Major Vanals- 
tine, the fourth, Adolphustown; and Colonel McDonell and 
his company, the fifth, Marysburgh; "and so after this 
manner the first settlement of loyalists in Canada was 

In the pages of Canniff's work upon the "Settlement 
of Upper Canada"! is preserved a story by the late Dr. 
Armstrong, whose recollections dated back to the closing 
years of the eighteenth century. He remembered to have 
seen as a child, at my great-great-grandfather's house at 
Fredericksburg, a quantity of old implements of war: 
broken firelocks, torn uniforms and cannon balls. Not a 
few relics of the soldier settlement still exist in the family, 
in the shape of rusty small arms, obsolete powder-horns 
and flint-lock pistols. 

James Rogers passed away in the year 1792. His 
brother Robert had died in England eight years previously, 
and shortly after the close of the war.t 

♦Ryerson's "Loyalists of British America." Vol, II, page 211. 

fPage 118. 

tl have followed here the family tradition as to the date of Robert 
Rogers's death. This places it in 17S4. The writer of the article upon 
the life of Robert Rogers in the "Dictionary of National Biography" — 



My great-great-grandfather was succeeded in his posi- 
tion in the settlement by his son, David McGregor Rogers, 
my great-grandfather, who, for twenty-four years, repre- 
sented his district in the early Houses of Assembly of 
Upper Canada.* 

A recently recovered copy of the journal of the House 
of Assemby for 1801, which had been lost at the sacking 
of York, now Toronto, in 1813, records how after the 
House had met and the members subscribed the oath, a 
message was delivered by the Gentleman Usher of the 
Black Rod. A brief and formal speech by His Excellency 
followed. Then: 

"David M. Rogers, Esquire, Knight representing the 
Counties of Hastings and Northumberland, stood up, and 
addressing himself to the clerk (who, standing up, pointed 
to him and then sat down) proposed to the House, for their 
speaker, the Honourable D. \V. Smith, Esquire, in which 
motion he was seconded by the Hon. Henry Allcock, 
Esquire, one of the judges of the Court of King's Bench, 
Knight representing the counties of Durham, Simcoe and 
the East Riding of York." The motion was carried, the 
new Speaking expressing "his gratitude for the honour," 
and "thereupon he sat down in the chair." The House 
then adjourned. 

David McGregor Rogers seems to have been a man of 
considerable force of character, uniting as he did the blood 
of his soldier father with that of the Highland outlaws, 
which he owed to his mother, whose name he bore as part 
of his own. On one occasion he is said to have slain a 
wolf, the- marauding tyrant of the district, with his oaken 
walking stick. As a lad he had taken part in the migration, 

London, 1897 — places it in 1800, but in this he has followed Hough who, 
in his turn, evidently followed Sabine in the matter. There is no trace of 
his having lived after 17S4, and everything, including the story in his 
family, points to his having died soon after his return from Halifax. 

*See Morgan's "Celebrated Canadians." 


and upon his return to St. Johns years afterwards, he was 
invested with the dignity of an honorary chieftainship by 
the local Indians. He died at Grafton, Ontario, in 1824, 
while still a member of the House of Assembly. 

Napoleon at jftMntatetm 

By Frederick Myron Colby 

It is said that after the battle of Waterloo, and before embarking on 
the Bellerophon for St. Helena, Napoleon paid a nocturnal visit to the 
tomb of Josephine at Malmaison — Author. 

'Mid the gardens of Malmaison, in the warm, June-scented air. 

Paced Napoleon, sorrow-stricken, 'mongst the roses blooming there; 

Beaten in his life's ambition, sore bereft of child and queen, 

Turning from the battle's carnage to the grave of Josephine. 

In this hour of deepest anguish, when his heart was sore with care. 

He had sought her tomb so lonely, there to breathe a broken prayer; — 

She the wife he had deserted in his height of worldly pride, 

Ah, but yesterday it seemed since he had walked there by her side. 

Fell the twilight's damask curtains 
Over all the rose-strewn land, 

Soothed his soul like benediction 
Sent by God's all-loving hand. 

As he paced there in the starlight, what a throng of memories came 
To the sad and silent watcher breathing there her cherished name! 
Memories that had long been dormant in the warrior's gloomy breast, 
But which now they were awakened, filled his heart with strange unrest. 
O'er the memory of his triumphs rose her witching Creole face, 
She whose smiles had first allured him in his meteoric race. 
What were all his crowns and conquests, what his Austrian's soft art 
By the side of this one woman with her great and loving heart? 
Fell the dews of night upon him 

As he prayed in silence there, 
And the breezes of the night-time 

Softly stirred his dew-wet hair. 


He could see the fond upbraiding in her dusky Southern eyes, 

He could feel her arm's warm welcome, as she smiled her sweet surprise. 

What a solace were she living, as he oft had met her there. 

So that he might seek her counsel, tell her all his wild despair. 

Over all his dreams of glory swept the magic of her grace, 

And the man who had disclaimed her felt the tears rain down his face. 

Visions saw he of the old time when he held the throne of France, 

Visions of the courtly circles where she led the stately dance. 

Fell the teardrops as they glistened 
On his iron visage grim, 

Pearly teardrops, dear and precious, 
That a pardon won for him. 

Long he knelt there in the silence, bowed in grief above her grave, 
While before him rose the pageants of that past so grand and brave; 
Forms of heroes, forms of statesmen, women beautiful and fair; 
All these phantoms swept before him on the summer's fragrant air. 
Heard he thunder of his cannon on Marengo's fated field; 
Saw the sun of Borodino shining on a blood-red shield. 
But against the strife and battle ever rose a tear-stained face, 
Rose the vision of a woman moving slow with queenly grace. 

Fell the shadows softly, slowly, 
O'er that form of grief-swept woe, 

And he shook beneath the burden 
Who had never feared a foe. 

Through the roses of Malmaison slow he went with faltering feet, 
Gazing oft among the shadows for a form he'd never meet; 
Thinking dimly of the woman who had been his loving queen, 
Longing sadly for a pressure from the hand of Josephine. 
So he went to meet the morrow, with a firm and dauntless air, 
Turning from the place forever to take up his load of care; 
Bending low before his victors to accept his weary lot, 
Going forth to die an exile on that lonely, sea-girt spot. 

Fell the midnight's dusky mantle 
O'er the fair and peaceful scene, 

Where, among Malmaison's roses, 
Slept his faithful Creole queen. 

Cfje Secret of tfje if atmteb Chouse 

A Tale of Pioneer Days in Hanover 
By Julia A. Sabine 

The following truthful story is thought worthy of reproduction here, 
as it is one of the traditions forming the early accounts of the first settlers 
of Hanover. The authoress was a daughter of Reuben Davis, the hero 
of the tale, who lived in Cornish. She was a writer of considerable repu- 
tation, among her works being the book, "At the End of the Rainbow." 
She died about fifteen years ago. Captain Davis, the father of the hero, 
was a Revolutionary soldier, somewhat noted as having been one of the 
guard placed over Major Andre at the time of his capture. — Editor. 

O LET me go, too," pleaded little Reuben Davis. 
''Please, Brother Nathan." 

"No; I can't be bothered with you," returned 
Nathan. "I don't want any babies round where I am." 

"Babies, indeed!" said Reuben indignantly. As if I 
were a baby! You ought to be ashamed to say such a 
thing, Brother Nathan. You know I chopped wood all last 

"Wood? Ho, ho!" answered Nathan with an irritating 
laugh. "More boot and toes than wood, I guess." 

At this taunt, which alluded to a mishap of Reuben's 
of which he was not a little ashamed, the little fellow 
turned quickly away and walked along the footpath which 
led to his honfe. 

It was a raw, cheerless day in early spring, nearly 
ninety years ago. Four boys were sitting on a huge log 
which lay upon the ground just at the point where the 
foot path to the Davis farm met the main road. 

They had a daring scheme in view, promising great 
fun, in which little Reuben longed to join; but stern fate, 
in the person of his brother Nathan, forbade. 



"But then," as Moses Davis often said, "Nate might 
as well give up first as last for, when Reub had made up 
his mind to do anything, he alius did it, some way or 

"Why don't you let him go, Nate?" asked Hiram Cole, 
a short, fat boy, with beady black eyes. 

"'Cause I ain't a min' ter," answered Nathan. 

"He won't do a mite of harm," said Josiah Varnum. 
"For my part I'd kinder like to have him along. He's alius 
so good natured." 

"Well, if he goes, I won't, that's all," said Nathan and 
the boys said no more; but Moses thought that when the 
time came to go, neither Nathan nor Reuben would stay 

There was an old cabin standing by itself on the hill, 
perhaps a mile from where the boys were sitting, which had 
long had the reputation of being haunted. The man who 
built it. had been taken prisoner by the Indians. His end 
was never known. His wife, through grief and anxiety, 
lost her reason. She lived for many years, a harmless 
lunatic, wandering about the country, living upon what 
people chose to give her, until, one cold winter morning, 
she was found dead, frozen to death, upon a snow drift 
before her door. 

After that no one ever lived in the cabin. The door 
had fallen from its hinges. The windows had not a whole 
pane remaining in the sashes. The loneliness — for the 
cabin stood on the edge of a thick forest — and its ruined 
condition were enough to give it a bad name; and there 
was not a boy in the vicinity who would willingly pass by 
it alone, especially after nightfall. 

There had been more said about the cabin than usual 
lately. Some boys passing by on their return from a 
"sugaring off" late at night saw, or said they saw, a 
strange blue light issuing from the windows, and heard 
moans and clanking of chains. 

Nathan Davis was fired with a sudden desire to solve 


the mystery, and he easily persuaded his brother Moses, 
Hiram Cole and 'Siah Varnum to spend a night with him 
in the haunted cabin. The boys had carried firewood and 
kindling and pine knots to the door, in order that they 
might have fire and light, and they had a supply of butter- 
nuts to crack, corn to pop, and even a few cakes of maple 
sugar for a treat, while waiting for the ghost to appear. 

They felt a little doubtful of obtaining the approval of 
their parents, and had concluded to dispense with it. 

"We will slip out after the folks are asleep," said 
Nathan; "and then, if we don't find anything, nobody need 
be any the wiser, and if we do find out suthin', they'll be 
so glad they won't care." 

"Where shall we meet?" asked Hiram. 

"Here's as good as any place," answered Nathan. 

"Time to go home now and do the chores," yawned 
Josiah. "After all, I'd 'most as soon stay to home and go 
to bed." 

"You always were a sleepy head," returned Nathan. 
"Hadn't you better ask your marm to get you a cradle?" 

And then the boys separated and went to their homes. 
When Reuben left the others, he hurried along the narrow 
path through the dense forest, his bosom swelling with 

"I'll go anyway," he said to himself. "I alius get 
ahead of Nate, but I don't see what makes him so cross. 
If he'd only be pleasant to me, I'd do anything he wanted 
me to." He looked up through the leafless branches of 
the tall old trees at the dull gray sky. "I b'lieve it's goin' 
to rain," he said. 

It was not a year since Captain Davis had brought his 
family to Hanover. Hitherto they had lived on a small 
farm, stony and unproductive, in one of the Massachusetts 
coast towns. But the preceeding summer he had secured 
a large tract of land, mostly woodland, not far from Dart- 
mouth College, of which he hoped in time to make a pro- 
ductive farm. 


"'Twill be hard work and short rations at first, 
mother," he had said to his wife. "Children and all must 
take hold and work like beavers; and by and by, God will- 
ing, we shall have a good home." 

And they had worked hard. Even Reuben, though 
not yet twelve, had chopped wood in the forest until an 
unlucky blow with the ax had nearly cost him two toes and 
put a summary end to his labors. 

Mrs. Davis and her daughters spun and wove home- 
spun cloth, and made the clothing and knit stockings for 
the family. Their food was the simplest. Every penny 
was saved, for a payment of one hundred and fifty dollars 
was due in the spring, and it was not easy to find the 
money to meet it. 

Captain Davis had sold wood in the village, and stabled 
some of the horses belonging to the students of the col- 
lege; for in those days, when there were no railways and 
but few stage routes, the students used to ride on horseback 
to college at the beginnning of the term, through the 
almost trackless forests, carrying their books and clothing 
in saddle bags. Some one must take care of and feed 
their horses during the term, and this was one of the many 
ways by which Captain Davis had added to his scanty sup- 
ply of money. 

When Reuben reached home, he paused for a moment 
on the threshold, surprised at the unusual scene which met 
his eyes. The kitchen, as usual, was spotlessly clean. 
The fire burned brightly in the great open fireplace, a pot 
of steaming hot bean porridge swung from the crane, 
and in a, bake kettle before the fire a johnny-cake was 

But Mother Davis sat crying, — Reuben had never seen 
his mother- cry before, — Captain Davis looked pale and 
stern, Polly and Sally looked on with consternation in their 
faces, and the great chest, in which all the family treasures 
were kept, stood open, and its contents were strewed about 
the floor. "I don't see how it could have happened," 


sobbed Mother Davis: "I hain't never left the house alone 
as I know of." 

"Don't you remember, mother, you walked up the road 
a piece the other evening, when the cow got out?" said 

"Well, I wasn't gone but a few minutes." 

"It was long enough for the mischief to be done," 
said Captain Davis. 

"But who could have taken it?" asked Sally. 

"I don't know as it makes much difference who took 
it. The money's gone. And day after to-morrow it was 
to have been paid. Unless we can find it I am afraid we 
shall lose the place." 

"Can't you borrow it somewhere?" asked the wife. 

"I don't think much of borrowing; and, besides, I 
don't know where I could get it." 

"Don't you think maybe some of the boys took it for 
fun?" asked Polly. 

"Oh, no," said Reuben, coming forward now for the 
first time. "I am sure they didn't." 

"Oh, you're there, are you?" said his father sharply. 
"Well, you see what's happened. The money's gone. I 
didn't mean any of you boys should know it just yet; and 
since you've found it out for yourself you may keep it to 

"I won't say a word about it, sir, until you give me 
leave," said Reuben. "Did they take the mitten?" 

The money was kept in a blue and white striped 

"Yes; small loss that is beside the money. What did 
you want of the mitten?" 

"I only thought," said Reuben, "that if they took the 
mitten and we should find it again it might help us find the 

"Mebbe it would," replied his father. "You look 
sharp for a mitten, will you?" 

"Pretty soon the other boys came in, and the simple 


supper was quickly served and eaten. Then Captain Davis 
brought out the great Bible and read a chapter and offered 
a fervent prayer, and then the family began to prepare for 

There were but two rooms in the Davis farmhouse: 
the big kitchen or living-room, in which the cooking was 
done, and where a bed for Mr. and Mrs. Davis stood; and a 
smaller room opening from it, where the loom upon which 
Mother Davis wove was "set up," and which also held a 
bed for Polly and Sally. There was a trundle bed for the 
little ones, Ira and David, in the kitchen, which was rolled 
under the big bed out of the way during the day, and 
pulled out into the middle of the room at night. Over all 
was the loft, reached by a ladder and a trap door from the 
kitchen, where the older boys slept. 

Nathan and Moses sat down by their window after 
bidding the family good-night, and waited until everything 
was still. Then they crept softly through the window, out 
upon the roof of a little shed which adjoined the kitchen, 
and from that swung themselves to the ground. Reuben, 
who had been feigning sleep, quickly followed, and, keep- 
ing well out of sight, ran along a little distance behind, 
until they were joined by the other boys and had reached 
the cabin. Even then,- he waited outside until they had 
struck a light and started a fire: and then he walked bcldly 
in. Moses laughed loudly. 

"If you ain't here, Reub!" he said. "I knew you'd 
do it." 

"What business have you here?" growled Nathan. 
"You just go back where you came from." 

"Shan't," said Reuben, composedly. "I guess this is 
a free country; and I have as good a right to the road as 
you have,: — or to this cabin either. Go back yourself, if 
you like it." 

Hiram and Josiah shouted. 

"Reub is ahead again," said the latter. Here, Reub, 
take hold and shell some corn," said Hiram. 


Nathan, muttering that he "wished the ghost would 
catch and eat Reuben," began cracking butternuts vigor- 
ously; and for a time the boys were too intent upon eating 
to find time to talk. Reuben grew sleepy very soon, and 
curled himself up in a corner, where the huge chimney 
made an angle with the wall and shaded him from the 
bright firelight, and quickly fell asleep. 

As the older boys found their appetites for butternuts 
and popped corn diminishing, they began to tell stories, to 
keep up their spirits and pass away time. It was quite 
natural, but not very wise, that they should choose ghost 
stories; and one boy after another told some blood-curdling 
tale until their hair almost stood up straight with fright. 

"Keziah Wood," said Hiram, "that lives to our house> 
says she used to work for a family that lived in a haunted 
house. She says it was awful. Every night, about mid- 
night, they used to hear chains clanking overhead and a 
blue light would shine out — Hark! Boys, what's that?" 

The boys listened. Very distinctly they heard, in the 
loft above them,' the clanking of heavy chains. They 
looked at each other with pale faces. Their hearts almost 
stood still. Somehow it seemed very different to hear 
these noises at midnight in a lonely cabin from hearing 
them in full daylight at home. 

Nathan was the first to rally, feeling, perhaps, that his 
reputation for courage was at stake. 

"Hadn't we better go up and see what it is?" he asked, 
x But at that moment the cabin was flooded with a 
strange, blue light; and the boys, looking toward the open- 
ing which gave admission to the loft overhead, saw plainly 
a human skull, looking very terrible in the ghostly, blue 
light, seeming to float in the air, midway between the ceil- 
ing and the floor. 

This was too much. The boys tumbled out of the 
cabin and ran for home, never stopping to take breath until 
they reached the footpath which led to the Davis farm. 
When they halted there, both Hiram and Josiah were too 


badly frightened to go home alone. So they went on with 
Moses and Nathan, and, climbing up the shed and in at the 
window of the loft, lay awake for hours, their teeth chat- 
tering with fear. 

As soon as they were fairly away from the cabin, two 
rough looking men let themselves cautiously down from 
above and peered curiously around. 

"All gone, Rill?" asked one. 

"Yes, Tom," returned the other. "We scared them 
pretty well." 

"Twon't do for us to stay here any longer, though," 
said Tom. "Soon as they tell what they saw, the old folks 
will suspect mischief; and the game will be up." 

"We're safe enough for to-night," said Bill, "and we'll 
get off early in the mornin'. Money's all right, ain't it?" 

"Guess so," said Tom. "May as well look and see." 
And, going to the fireplace, he stooped down and lifted one 
of the bricks from its place in the hearth. 

Little Reuben, wakened by the sound of strange 
voices, had crouched back in his corner, fearing to be seen, 
and listened eagerly to ever}- word. Now he drew care- 
fully forward and peeped around the corner, a great hope 
springing up in heart. 

The backs of the two men were toward him, so that 
he could not see their faces; but, by the light of the fire, 
he saw Tom put his hand in the open place left by the dis- 
placed brick and lift up the mitten (he would have known 
it anywhere, he thought) in which his father kept his 
money. , 

"Yes; it's all here," said Tom. "May as well put it 
back now, and we'll be off early in the mornin'." 

They replaced the mitten and then sat for a while by 
the fire, eating butternuts and corn which the boys had 
left. Reuben drew back into his corner, but not until he 
had caught a glimpse of their faces and recognized them 
as two men who had been seen in their neighborhood 
several times of late, ostensibly looking for work, but of 


whom Captain Davis had said, "They were after no 

Reuben listened to their conversation and learned from 
it that they had escaped from prison in a neighboring state, 
and that their plan was to push on through the woods to 
Portsmouth, where they hoped to get a passage on some 
vessel bound to England, trusting to the money they had 
stolen from his father to supply them with necessaries for 
the journey. 

"They shan't have it," thought little Reuben. "I'll 
get it some way." But although he made dozens of plans, 
none of them seemed feasible. 

He found that they had been living in the cabin for 
nearly two weeks. The}' had trusted to its reputation for 
secrecy, and by burning the blue light had hoped to keep 
alive the story of the ghost. The skull they had stolen 
from the medical college. But, as we have seen, they had 
overdone this part, and had opened the way to discovery. 

At last, Bill said, with an oath, it was "time to turn 
in." Tom swung himself into the loft, and tossed down a 
pair of old blankets; and, wrapping themselves in these, 
the two men threw themselves upon the floor, and were 
soon asleep. 

Reuben waited until he was sure both were sleeping 
soundly. Then he crept out from his hiding place. He 
stole softly to the hearth, with trembling hands pried up 
the loosened brick, caught up the mitten with its precious 
contents, and slipped quietly out at the door. 

The night was dark and the rain, which Reuben had 
predicted in the afternoon, was falling. He heard no 
sounds but the dropping of the rain and the beating of his 
own heart. He was not a coward, but he had a long, 
lonely walk before him; and he knew, if the men should 
discover him, they would not hesitate to kill him. And he 
groped his way along, listening every now and then to 
hear if he was pursued, in an agony of terror. 

Meanwhile, the other boys were tossing uneasily about, 


finding sleep impossible, and still full of fright at what 
they had seen. 

"Boys," said Moses, suddenly, "we've forgot Reub." 

"That's a fact," said Josiah. 

"What can we do?" 

"Oh, darn him!" cried Nathan. "Why couldn't he 
stayed at home as he oughter?" 

"Well, we've got to do something," said Moses. 
"'Twon't do to leave him there alone all night." 

"There's nothin' for't but to go and tell father the 
whole story," answered Nathan. "I'd ruther be licked, but 
there ain't no other way." 

After a little deliberation, the boys crept down the 
ladder and aroused Captain Davis, whose surprise changed 
to indignation as he heard their story. 

"You cowardly boys!" he said. Having led your little 
brother into danger, you were too selfish to help him out 
of it. We must go to him at once. The Lord only knows 
into what hands he may have fallen." 

"Do you think the ghosts would hurt him, sir?" asked 

"Ghosts!" said Captain Davis, angrily. "No ghosts 
made the noises you heard to-night. The dead do not 
come back trom their graves to frighten silly boys. It was 
the work of bad men, for their own evil purposes." 

He had struck a light, and was dressing hurriedly as 
he spoke. Mrs. Davis, pale and anxious, sat up in bed, and 
Polly and Sally, wakened by the unusual sounds, peered 
furtively through their half-opened door. 

"Get the lantern ready, Nathan," commanded his 
father. "We must lose no time. And, Moses, run to 
Neighbor Chase's and ask him to accompany us. I fear 
my son Reuben is in peril of his life." 

But, as he spoke, a loud knocking was heard at the 
outer door, and Reuben's voice calling: 

"Let me in! O father, let me in!" 

And, in another moment, the little boy, all drenched 


with rain, and panting for breath, was in his father's arms. 

"See, father," said he breathlessly, "I've got it. I've 
got the money. It's all safe here.'' And, half crying, half 
laughing, he thrust the mitten into his father's hand. 

As soon as he was a little calmer and had somewhat 
recovered his breath, he told his story. And from that 
moment he became a hero in the eyes of his brothers. 
Even Nathan forbore to tease, and was never known to call 
Reuben a baby again 

Captain Davis went immediately for a constable, hop- 
ing to arrest the men before they got away. But he was 
too late. They had probably missed the money, and, 
knowing they were or would be discovered, had already 
escaped, and were never seen in Hanover again. 

So the money was paid whan due, and Captain Davis 
kept his farm. He did not punish the boys for the decep- 
tion they had used, because he said good had come out of 
evil; but they were all quite cured of any desire for further 
nocturnal expeditions. The man who owned the land on 
which the cabin stood had it torn down when he heard of 
Reuben's adventure, saying 4< he did not wish to shelter 
thieves." And this was the end of the "Haunted House 
of Hanover." 


By Mabel Porter Pitts 

Each day would find a better goal, 

Each work a truer place, 
If man would meet maff soul to soul 

Instead of face to face. 

^e&sage of tfje Cfermtt Cfjrusfj 

By Mary C. Butler 

Thro' the great cathedral arches, 
Of the forest deep and dim, 

In the tranquil hush of morning, 
Rings a sweet and wondrous hymn. 

Tis the hermit thrush who's singing. 
Spirit of the peaceful woods, 

"With his bell-like notes proclaiming, 
All the message that he loves. 

•Come to me all ye who labor, 
A!l of ye who burdens bear. 

In my arms, I'll clasp thee, shield thee, 
Ye shall all my treasures share. 

'Tho' ye wander friendless, homeless, 
Tho' thy sorrows bear thee down, 

I will love and comfort give thee, 
Ye shall be my father's own." 

Now the thrush has ceased his singing, 
Other throats take up the song, 

And the quiet woods re-echo 

With the reverent, happy throng. 

'Come to me, all ye who labor, 

All o'er-burdened and opprest, 
Come, and cast away thy burden, 
Come and I will give thee rest." 

All may hear our thrush's music 
Echoing thro' the forest dim, 

Weary souls of men uplifting 
With that sweet, ecstatic hymn. 


A Plain Tale of Plain People, Some of Whom You May Have 

Known, All of Whom Lived a Third of a Century Ago 

By George Waldo Browne 

[Copyright. 1906, by the Author] 
What shadows we are and what shadows we pursue! — Burke. 



It's an owersome sooth for age and youth, 

An' it brooks wi' nae denial, 
That the dearest friends are the auldest friends, 

An' the young are just on trial. 

— Stevenson. 

/^VHE reply, if any was given to the last frantic com- 
^^ a mand of the strange skipper, was too faint to be 
heard. But soon the first voice cried above the 

"The reef — the rock — we're lost! Mina — the boy!" 
The brave woman bending over the prostrate form of 
Leonard Quiver now sprang to her feet, and, protecting 
her gaze from the storm with her hand, she tried to pierce 
the gloom hanging over the water, while she waited and 
watched for some new development. She trembled from 
head to foot with suppressed emotion, and her breath came 
in quick, short gasps. At this critical moment, as if the 
power of the vivid situation had awakened him from the 
spell of a troubled sleep, the victim of the tempest sud- 
denly started up and, throwing out his arms, clutching at 
empty space, cried wildly: 



Mother- Mina—helpf" 

Then she turned abruptly around, and looked sharply 
upon his pallid features for a brief while, as seen by the 
lantern light, to drop upon her knees by his side and, 
throwing her arms about his neck, sob in ecstacy of joy. 

"My boy! found at lastT 

The shrieks of the gale, the ugly swish of the storm- 
driven waters beating like a legion of furies the rocky 
shore of the pond, and the rapid dripping of the black clouds 
overhead were all unheeded by the little knot of spectators 
gathered by the lantern light around the reunited mother 
and son. Above the outbursts of the elements were borne 
to their ears, alike unnoticed, the wild commands of the 
frantic husband and father, shouting his imaginary orders 
to an imaginary crew, while he fought a tempest, hand-to- 
hand, that was only too real. At this critical moment 
Freeland Newbegin had presence of mind to act, saying 
to those around him: 

"Lend a hand here, men, and see that you get this 
couple — mother and son,— to the shelter of the house with 
all speed you may. The rest of us must see what we can 
do to save Captain Forecastle." 

"There is a boat on the shore just above here," said 
Uncle Life, quickly, speaking with that mellow calmness so 
natural to him. He had spent more that ten years of life 
upon the sea, and no man in Sunset could handle a boat 
like him, unless our hero was excepted. 

"Lead the way to the boat," ordered the latter. 
"Come, we want another pair of willing arms." 

Leaving the crowd to look after the couple sobbing in 
each others' arms, Uncle Life and Freeland Newbegin 
started in the direction of the boat, the former leading the 
way without any apparent haste or excitement, but at a 
gait which puzzled his companion to match. Three or 
four men volunteered to lend their assistance, but when 
the boat was reached by the leaders only Everybody's Sam 
was on hand to step in. Without waiting for others, this 


three pushed the little craft out into the water and a 
moment later were driving it swiftly against wind and rain 
toward the opposite shore. It has already been remarked 
that this singular lakelet was subject to spasmodic spells, 
when its erstwhile mirror-like surface would be slashed and 
churned into a miniature maelstrom. No one, not even 
Uncle Life, the sage of Sunset, professed to offer any real 
explanation for these freaks, except that some infernal 
power was at work beneath its bottomless abyss. It is 
well claimed that an underground river flows beneath New 
England from the White Hills on the north to Old 
Ocean on the Rhode Island coast. On the route of this 
strange river are other ponds that have periodical disturb- 
ances somewhat similar to those that convulsed "The Old 
Man's Mirror," or "Satan's Wash Bowl," just as its mood 
seemed to govern its name. Mav not this have been the 
case with this erratic lakelet, fed and emptied by that cav- 
ernous stream and tempered by its rise and fall? This is 
not offered as an explanation but as a suggestion. 

Let the cause have been what it may, the strong arms 
of Freeland Newbegin were tried to their utmost to keep 
the frail boat up against the inland breakers, the whole 
pond seeming to be boiling with rage, while Uncle Life 
steered toward the doomed schooner, guided in his course 
by the frequent orders of its captain, vainly shouting com- 
mands that the tempest flung back into his face with wild 
glee. The increasing clearness of these cries told the 
occupants of the boat that they were soon drawing near, 
and finally the gray-headed boatman, forming his hands 
into trumpet shape at his month, shouted through this 
tunnel at the top of his lungs, lingering long on the last 

"Ship aho-o-o-y!" 

With an unexpected promptness came the reply, ring- 
ing in its stentorian tones on the storm: 

"Ahoy it is! What ship is that and whither bound?" 

The story of the tragical adventure which had ruined 


the life of Captain Kenneth Forecastle was familiar to 
Life Story, and he replied aptly: 

"The White Petrel, storm driven upon this rocky 
shore. Lend a hand!" 

"Ay, ay, White Petrel! lend a hand. Save my — " 

The rest was drowned by the tempest, while a furious 
gust of wind tore across the black space of night, sweep- 
ing everything before it, catching up the water and flinging 
it in whited spray against the sheeted walls of rain now 
pouring down. A thunder shock — the sound of the ill- 
fated, short-lived ship driven upon the rocks jutting out 
into the water from the base of the mountain on the south 
side, reached the ears of the anxious trio in the boat, 
followed by the crash and grinding of rending timbers. 
Again Uncle Life shouted through his impromptu trumpet 
in clarion tone: 

"Ahoy — there! the boy is saved! Leap for your life 
on the sta'board tack!" 

The response was fainter this time: 

"Ay, ay, the sta'board tack." 

Understanding what would be needed now, Freeland 
Newbegin quickly divested himself of his outer garments 
and as the last word died away on the storm he plunged 
boldly into the angry water, while Life and Sam, who had 
now taken the oars, sent the boat cautiously toward the 
wreck. One, two, three minutes passed — minutes that 
were freighted with the anxiety of so many hours to the 
listeners, — before a faint halloo reached their ears. 

"He has got him!" exclaimed Uncle Life. "They are 
down to the leeward more." 

They rapidly approached the spot where the brave 
rescuer was battling manfully to save the man whom he 
had gone to save, but none too soon. The latter found his 
burden hanging a dead weight on his arm, and this in the 
storm and darkness made it a tough fight. But, in the 
midst of his humane task, Life Story lent his aid, and, 
assisted by Sam, the unconscious form of Captain Fore- 


castle was lifted into the boat. Then the rescuer was 
assisted over the rail, but falling at the feet of his com- 
panions completely exhausted. 

"Let me take the oars, Sam," said Uncle Life. "You 
take the tiller and steer right for that beacon light, the 
candle in the window!" 

As they approached the shore, Uncle Life shouted for 
assistants to be on hand, and these were not missing, as 
they found more than a score of men waiting for them to 
reach the shore, regardless of the rain now pouring down 
in torrents. These quickly lifted Captain Forecastle from 
the boat and carried him to the house, where he was placed 
upon a couch and given such attention as he needed until 
a physician could be summoned. 

Freeland Newbegin had recovered from his exertions, 
so with Uncle Life he went into the house that was now 
the scene of such unusual happenings. Leonard Quiver, 
as I shall call him for the last time, was fully recovered 
from the shock that he had received, and he sought the 
side of his friend as soon as he saw him among the new- 
comers, saying: 

"I am the happiest man in the world. To think I 
should find them here — father and mother. But how is 

Captain Forecastle was beginning to move, and his 
lips uttered some inarticulate speech. 

"He got a smart clip on the side of the head," said 
Uncle Lite, who had taken him. in charge, "but it is not 
enough to use him up. He may have a run of fever, but 
he'll come out th' better for it. What is is and it can't be 

The doctor substantiated mainly what the sage had 
said, so one and all felt that good might come out of the 
night's adventure with little or no harm to mar its pleas- 
ure. The callers began to seek their respective homes, 
until only the family group, the two persons who had vol- 
unteered to care for the sick man, the doctor, and Free- 


land Newbegin remained at the cottage home. Outside 
the wind and rain were pelting furiously against its 
weather-beaten walls, and the tempest-tossed waters of 
'•Satan's Basin" roared incessantly upon its rocky rim, but 
in the happiness and gratitude of that hour these were 
unheeded by the members of the reunited family and their 

"It all seems like a dream," murmured Mrs. Fore- 
castle, whose joy was cf the kind that failed to find full 
expression in words but was manifested in a manner not 
less easily understood. 

"My given name is Mina, and those three words — 
'Mother, Mina, help!' — were the last you said, my son, as 
you were torn from my arms and borne into the sea, as we 
stood on the deck of the old Petrel the moment before she 
was driven upon the rocks. They were burned into my 
mind, and when you repeated them, awakening from your 
stupor, and hearing your father give the very same com- 
mands and shouts he uttered on that dreadful night, I 
instantly recognized you. Truly the hand of Providence 
has shaped it all." 

"I think so, mother," said her son, softly, taking her 
hand in his. "I remember that night only as the shadow 
of a dream one cannot fully recall upon waking. I was 
picked up by a kindly couple, and kept with them until I 
was fifteen years old. Then I could no longer resist the 
spirit of restlessness and I set out to find you. But I had 
no clue and my quest proved so hopeless that I gave it up. 
Finally I fell into the companionship of Mr. Bidwell, and 
he and I came here. It was a kind fate that guided my 

"Amen, my son. Now I can only hope that your 
father will at last rally from the cloud that has borne him 
down all these years. His poor ship was built in vain — 
no, not in vain! It brought you to us, and did ever ship 
make a happier voyage ? Do you know what happened to 
it, sir?" she asked of Freeland Newbegin, who was under- 


going influences such as even he could not have described. 
Arousing himself at the question asked by her, he replied: 

"I fear it has fared ill with her. She has grounded on 
the rocks of the farther shore of the pond." 

"It is well. Her voyage was short, but it was event- 
ful. If now Kenneth will only recover, my cup of happi- 
ness will be full to overflowing." 

"He will," said the kind-hearted doctor "Of that I 
am sure." 

Upon the request of his friend, the town claimant 
remained all night at the former's new home, but in the 
morning, finding that the ill man was continuing to improve 
in his condition, he went up to the village. The storm had 
cleared away, and there was every prospect of a beautiful 
autumn day. As he walked slowly along the road, he saw 
on the opposite shore of the pond the ship which had been 
thrown upon her beam's end, and presented the appear- 
ance of a complete wreck. But he did not give it a sec- 
ond thought. This was the day of the town meeting, 
which was to open at ten o'clock, and he realized that the 
crisis in his affairs was near at hand. The matter of a 
compromise had been proposed by the chairman of the 
selectmen, so he had made no move to have his big friend 
on hand. 

As he came in sight of Squire Newbegin's store, he 
saw that the voters had already begun to assemble, and he 
had barely reached the scene before he was told that the 
selectmen wanted to see him at once in their office. So he 
climbed the stairs leading to the dingy room, recalling as 
he did so the incidents of his first visit, while wondering 
how the squire would receive him on this occasion. 

He found only two of the board on hand to greet him, 
and he was told that the squire was not feeling well and 
would be unable to attend the town meeting. While this 
fact augured well for the success of his plans, the town 
claimant was somehow disappointed. He felt that the 
fight was practically over, without the shrewd squire to 


oppose him. The opening speech of Captain Eb revealed 
the wisdom of his conclusions. 

"We kinder wanted to talk with yaou afore thet 
tarnal overgrown lawyer had got erlong," said the chair- 
man, fidgetting uneasily in his chair. "My son John, who 
oughter been here afore naow, 'lowed it'd be better to talk 
with yaou. I — I — yaou see the deacon an' me hev sort'r 
been talkin' and argifyin' the marter, an' we hev— that is, 
we hev concluded we'd better sort o' settle this marter 
atween — atween — ahem — ourselves. Haow much be yaou 
willin* to take, and never trouble the taown ag'in? Yaou 
see half a loaf would be better 'n none," then seeing: he 
had made a bad break, he hastened to add, "for yaou." 

"Have you consulted the squire about this?" asked 
the claimant. 

"No. Yaou see he daon't jess think as we do, though 
he ain't said much. It looks so th' taown would vote as 
we recommend," the deacon nodding his head at this 

•'Call it twenty-five per cent," replied the other, with 
apparent indifference. 

At that moment he discovered Mary Temple coming 
rapidly down the road in the direction of the store. The 
sight of her brought back to him the visions of the past. 
Again he stood by the little footbridge spanning the brook 
below the orchard at his old home, and her hand rested 
softly, confidingly in his, while her head, crowned with its 
Wealth of brown tresses, lay against his bosom. He was 
telling her'over again the sweet story which has been told 
so many times over mid sorrow and gladness, hope and 
despair, and she was listening with an attentive ear to the 
declaration which fell like music upon her hearing. Then 
he looked across the gulf of years, and saw how far he 
had drifted apart from the court of his early love and the 
throne of promise. 

Involuntarily he murmured : 

"What shadows we follow!" 

(Begun in the July, 1906, number; to be continued) 

^Tfje Cbttor's; T£tnboUi 

In our article upon the ''Literary Associations of the 
Merrimack River," September number, page 120, we spoke 
of the author of "The Last Penacook" as Nathaniel Berry. 
This was an error and should have read Abel B. Berry. 
He was the son of Joshua Berry of Pittsfield, N. H., and 
for several years practised law in Boston and vicinity. 
Later he returned to his native town and was associated 
with Mr. John C. French in founding the Suncook Valley 
Times. He worked on this paper about a year, when he 
removed to Weare where he died quite suddenly. 

* * 

A correspondent has called our attention to another 
error in this article, in the first paragraph on page 144, 
where it is stated that "It seems incongruous that both he 
and his beautiful wife should die in the prime of life of 
that dread scourge of New England." Thoreau did die of 
consumption, but he was never married. He loved a 
woman who seemed capable of making his life a happy 
one, but his brother loved the same lady, and he gave her 
up to him and remained single. How much influence this 
had upon his life may not be told, but it is evident the inci- 
dent made a lasting impression upon his mind. 

The same person criticises the statement that he care- 
fully husbanded his physical resources, and goes on to 
describe how often he acted with extreme disregard for his 
comfort and health by "unusual expenditure of physical 
resources which was characteristic of him. Time and 
again he speaks of wading in the pools and streams; of 
excursions made in all kinds of weather." This is very 
true and frequent examples may be cited. Still, in the 



main, we believe he exercised more than ordinary care in 
his methods of living. His mother died of consumption, 
and it may be he inherited the disease, some doctors to the 
contrary, notwithstanding. It may not be out of place to 
say here that in our next number we shall have an article 
by an old contributor upon "Thoreau and His Mother." 

Utterarp Heabes 

Little Pilgrimages Among Old New England Inns. By Mary 
Caroline Crawford, author of "The Romance of Old New England Roof- 
trees," "The Romance of Old New England Churches," etc. Cloth, Svo.. 
gilt top, illustrated, 3S1 pages. Price, $2. L. C. Page & Company, pub- 
lishers, Boston. For sale in Manchester by Goodman. 

There is no class of dwellings or buildings around which cling so 
much of the unusual experiences of New England life as about her inns. 
Here the great family of man has met and parted upon a plane of nearer 
equality than possibly in any other phase of living. Here have come the 
highest in the land for a brief sojourn, leaving as they went away mem- 
ories that have outlasted the lives of those who moved here at the time. 
Here are mingled the tragic and the romantic, the unexpected and the 
common incidents in life. The author of this work, as she has in her 
previous volumes, has shown the pleasant aptitude of telling that which 
has the deepest interest and at the same time gives the most value to her 
descriptions. More than a score of taverns are described, among which 
we find the old inns of Portsmouth included. Over fifty illustrations 
printed in sepia accompany the sketches. 

The Old Peabody Pew. A Christmas Romance of a Country 
Church, By Kate Douglas Wiggin, with illustrations by Alice Barber 
Stephens, Ornamented cloth binding, 8vo., 144 pages, Price, $1.50. 
Houghton, Mifflin Company, publishers, Boston. For sale in Manchester 
by Goodman. 

The talented author, in her dedication of this handsome volume, says: 

"To a certain handful of dear New England women of names 
unknown to the world, dwelling in a certain quiet village, alike unknown: — 

"There never was a Peabody Pew in the Tory Hill Meeting-House, 
and Nancy's love story and Justin's never happened within its century-old 
walls; but I have imagined only one of the many romances that have had 
their birth under the shadow of that steeple, did we but realize it." 

The volume is tastefully decorated and illustrated, making it a book 
of exceptional beauty as well as value. 



The Iliad of Homer. To which is added an Appendix containing 
Poems selected from Twenty-six Languages all Translated by Edgar Alfred 
Tibbetts. This is a i2mo. volume of 557 pages, gilt top, cloth. Price; $2, 
Richard C. Badger, publisher, Boston. 

Professor Tibbets' translation is an imitation of the style as well as the 
words of Homer, although an iambic hexameter is selected as more suit- 
able to the movement of the English rhythm. We quote from 

ILIAD III, 234-2445 

"Now all the other Achaians of glancing eyes I see, 
Whom once I knew, whose names might full well be told by me; 
But two I see not 'mid them, two chiefs of lofty mood, 
Kastor, the charger-tamer, and Pollux, boxer good; 
They were my own dear brothers, and them my mother bore, 
Is't that they would not part from loved Lakedaimon's shore? 
Is't that they followed hither in ships which cross the sea, 
But wish not now in battles of warlike men to be, 
Fearing the vast reproaches that with my name go forth? 
Thus she; but they were held by the life-bestowing earth 
Far hence in Lakedaimon, the dear land of their birth. 

Boyhood Days on the Farm. A Story for Young and Old Boys. 
By Charles Clark Munn, author of "Uncle Terry." Full-page illustrations 
and chapter headings by Frank T. Merrill. Cloth, izmo., 416 pages. 
Price, $1.50. Lothrop, Lee and Shepard Company, publishers, Boston. 
For sale in Manchester by Goodman. 

The chief charm of this book lies in its simple recital of the inci- 
dents of everyday life that has fallen to the lot of many other boys during 
the period they passed upon the old homestead. If men now they will 
recall with hardly less vividness than on the day of its occurrence that 
fishing expedition, pictured here with fidelity, as well as the swimming 
"parties,'" school exhibitions, the "Town Meeting," "sugaring off," and 
"husking bees," as well as of hunting, trapping and camping out. The 
humor is rich arfd genuine. The young hero has all the mischief-making 
propensities of a healthy boy, and his experiences with "Hans," the hired 
man, and his "Aunt Clarissa," whose persistent maxim, "Spare the rod 
and spoil the child," worked its natural result in the way of boyish 
revenge, will never fail to provoke laughter. The wooing of the "boy" is 
tenderly as well as hnmorously told, and in the brief picture of later life a 
true pathos that will moisten many an eye. 

In justice it should be said that this book is not in every sense a 
juvenile, but it possesses equal interest to him who has outgrown his youth- 
hood but has not lost its memory. 


The Kenton Pines; or, Raymond Benson in College. By 
C. B. Burleigh. Illustrated by L. J. Bridgman. Cloth, i2mo., 3S2 pages. 
Lothrop, Lee & Shepard, Boston. Price, $1.50. For sale in Manchester 
by Goodman. 

This is the third of the "Raymond Benson Series," two volumes of 
which have been reviewed in these pages. This series has strong claims 
upon the boy who has the good fortune to read the book, and this latest 
number fully maintains the interest begun in the opening volume. As its 
sub-title indicates, it is a story of college life, which is filled with happy 
inspirations to accomplish the best results. It is an attractive volume, 
and the illustrations do credi*. to its gifted artist. 

The Minute Boys of South Carolina. ■ A Story of "How We 
Boys Aided the Swamp Fox." By James Otis. Illustrated by J. YV. F. 
Kennedy. Cloth, i2mo., 359 pages. Bana Estes & Company, Boston. 
Price, $1.50. For sale in Manchester by Goodman. 

This is the sixth volume in The Minute Boy Series, which has been 
planned to cover pretty thoroughly the country in the days of the War for 
Independence. Given a historical background, which seems to be his 
favorite setting, and James Otis tells an interesting story. The very name 
of Marion, the Swamp Fox, brings to mind one of the most romantic and 
picturesque features of the American. When are added to his stirring 
part those of his brother Gabriel and his friend Rufus Randolph, we have 
heroes worthy of the parts they play in this excellent book. 

Forge and Furnace; or, The Young Master of the Iron 
Mill. By Victor St. Clair. Ornamented covers, cloth, illustrated, icmo., 
281 pages. Price, Fifty Cents. H. M. Caldwell & Company, publishers, 
Boston. For sale in Manchester by Goodman. 

This is a clean juvenile from an experienced writer for the young. 
The story is founded upon real life, and describes the thrilling adventures 
of a youth, Manley Sterling, who, through a singular misfortune which 
overtakes his father finds himself face to face with such odds as must 
have daunted a less courageous youth. Overcoming these dangers and 
difficulties he finally becomes not only master of the mills but master of 
the situation. Associated with his, and scarcely of less interest, are the 
fortunes of Curly, the boy sculptor, who, from the beginning in the iron 
mill where he engraved his first images from the iron ore, rose to become 
u noted sculptor. This is a story we can recommend, 


t:^%^i :;^^%^? m - Jp iff? 





Francoma Mcunta:m and Pcm.igeXL asset Rtber 

Pictures from a Picture Land 


"Simon Pe^er saith unto them, 1 go a fishing. 
They say unto him. we also go with thee." 

V.~2 ALL the fortunate ones who, like the school- 
;>;,'' | master, know how to spend the summer vaca- 
tion, may the joy which floweth as a trout 
Ifr&Ercgfc'ri brcok from healing springs in the hills be theirs, 
and the spell never be lifted. 


Those were pleasant vacation days when we sat on the 
piaz/a of Wildcat Camp, the schoolmaster smoking a rem- 
iniscent pipe and framing bi:s of landscape in spirals of smoke. 
The old hcuse stands in a wild glen among the hills; for miles 
you may not see the smoke of another chimney. A neglected 
by-road runs past the dcor--runs on to deeper solitude and 
more shameful neglect. Cn either side of the 
road a trout brcok comes down from the hills; 
that is why the schoolmaster, the minister and 
the law- man are here with me. 

One evening Macdonald came up the road 
that leads through the shadow of the butternut 
trees down by the haunted school- house. I was 
copying out these notes and arranging the pic- 
tures from my sketch-book, when the Highlander 

Old Man of the Mountain 

w frv 



Echo Lake 

said. "I am thinking, schoolmaster, 
painter may be Scottish himself." 

"'Do you think. Macdonald, 
*that because this roof leaks, he 
would sit out in a Trosachs rain 
to sketch Loch Katrine?" 

"Not so much that, but I have 
seen many a loch and burn and gray brig in Scotland like the 
pictures in his book. The blue haze, common in the high- 
lands, and in the mountains of Wales. I have seen in your 
mountains; and on the Franconia peaks a rose-light like that 
which comes in early morning on Ben Lomond." 

"In Scotland, you have the wild folk-lore and traditions 
of centuries; we have nothing old but the Old Man of the 
Mountain, and only the geologist's hammer to tell how old he 

> ; ^W 

Agassis Basin 

is. He does not talk, Macdonald." 

"He is douce enough, schoolmaster." 
The evening wore on. The Pleiades glis- 
tened like points of steel so clear was the night. 
The Highlander fared homeward with lighted 
pipe, r and soon was lost to sight in the shade of 
the butternut trees down by the haunted school' 

To me, the valley of the Pemigewass^t 
is the picture land of the north country, and 
the view from Woodstock the completest 
picture in the mountain district of New Hamp- 
shire. It serves my purpose at this time simply to express a 
concrete opinion: but were it necessary to generalize, the state- 
ment could be amply supported by the words of that eminent 
writer, and , recognized authority on the landscape in na- 
ture and art, Thomas Starr King, whose graceful pen has 
given us in "The White Hills, Legendary and Picturesque," 
the only permanent literature of our mountains, lakes and 

rivers. Away back in stage coach 
days it was the driver's custom to 
stop near the school-house in 
Thornton, and direct the attention 
of passengers to the noble view 
of river and mountains, and for 

• ; 





Mountains from Woodstock 

The Bjsin 

many years rhe prospect from 

that point was known as the 

"Starr King View." The scene 

is graphically described in his 

book, and is accompanied by a 

picture drawn by Whelock. 

George L. Brown, called "The American Claude." in the 

times when painters were not merely "artists," but were 

students, held the view of the Franconia Mountains from 

Woodstock in high esteem. Lucy Larcom's poem, "The 

School House by the River," was inspired by the view from 


The country is a region of diversified interests; trout 

brooks are numerous, and many of them are extremely 
• >.>:v,y : { picturesque. Paths, enchanting as fairy land' 
lead through groves of balsam far into the 
woods. It is summer, and as you follow a 
brook with fishing rod. perchance a deer is 
peeping slyly at you. By and by winter will 

1 > 

■•••■ f - - ■ ) Oh 






L '*• 

Balanced Rock 

come, but the deer returns not with the buds of 
spring. O, wonderful days of Christian civih 
ization ! Men whose hands are red with the 
blood of fawns boast of the lives they 
have taken ; lives of creatures whose bodies 
were cleaner than theirs— lives that were purer 

than their slayer's. They owed for a few mouthfuls of greens ; 

the account was balanced by a crimson stain. "It was a 

glorious Victory." 

The pictures that lie along every-day paths are too well 

known to need comment of mine; Artist's View naturally at- 

tracts many visitors, but 1 am inclined to regard the prospect 

from Professor Carpenter's villa as by far the better view of 

the valley and mountains. The stroller about the hamlet of 

Woodstock' will find his way to the 

interesting geological formation 

known as Agassiz Basin, and he will 

probably puzzle his wits cyphering 

out the queer problem of Balanced 

Rock; or if more adventurous he will 




Mirror Lake 


~^^&-^-.<;^rjflJt^J__ _. 

follow the guide's smoking torch through the 
caverns of Lost River, as Mr. Huse and I did 
last fall. 


Door of Lost Fiver 

It is a Sabbath evening in the hills: the circle 
of mountains widens in the ambient air, afar 
over the tranquil valley to purple peaks remote. 
A message of glad tidings comes in the voice 
of trees and the perfume of the fields, and over all rises the 
anthem of the pines stirred to sound by the breeze. I have 
lighted my friendship fire, the minister has read from Isaiah 
60th, "Lift up thine eyes round about and see ; ail they gather 
themselves together, they come to thee." In fancy old fronds 
draw around^the true, the estranged, the false; they who 
are chilled by the shadows of earth, and they who are cher- 
ished by its sunshine. 

The shadow on the dial will 
not wait ; the vacation ends, and au- 
tumn comes with its glory. 

"Stains and splendid dyes 
That rival the tiger-moth's deep damasked 

Russtll Pond 



"J U, MPTtB ( I ■ 


.- S . Pi , ' 

— r v 


1 > 


/•"CI: Li / 

! f 


• .. i 

4 :' 

".<-■■► .'^,. ■ «sr 


tkm lit* 

By John Greenleaf Whittier 

No photograph of the Whittier shool-house is known to have 
been taken, but the subjoined pencil sketch is believed to be a cor- 
rect picture of the famous old house, which stood about half a mile 
from the poet's boyhood home. In his "Life and Letters of Whit- 
tier," Mr. S. T. Pickard says regarding the fate of the building, 
that it was sold, and while it was being removed, the carriage upon 
which it was being conveyed broke down and the building was left 
in the middle of the road, where it was burned by the boys. Whit- 
tier's beautiful tribute to the house and its memories has been 
credited by Matthew Arnold as "one of the perfect poems which 
must live." Oliver Wendell Holmes wrote to its author: "Let me 
sa to you unhesitatingly that you have written the most beautiful 
school-boy poem in the English language." — Editor. 

TILL sits the school-house by the road, 
A ragged beggar sunning; 
Around it still the sumacs grow, 
And blackberry vines are running. - 

Within, the master's desk is seen, 

Deep scarred by raps official: 
The warping floor, the battered seats, 
The jack-knife's carved' initials; 

The charcoal frescos on its wall; 

Its door's worn sill, betraying 
The feet that, creeping slow to school, 

Went storming out to playing ! 

Long years ago a winter's sun 

Shone over it at setting; 
Lit up its western window-panes, 

And low eaves' icy fretting, 
243 - aVc/ 


It touched the tangled golden curls, 

And brown eyes full of grieving, 
Of one who still her steps delayed 

When all the school were leaving. 

For near her stood the little boy 

Her childish favor singled; 
His cap pulled low upon his face 

Where pride and shame were mingled. 

Pushing with restless feet the snow 

To right and left, he lingered;— 
As restlessly her tiny hands 

The blue-checked apron fingered. 

He saw her lift her eyes; he felt 

The soft hand's light caressing, 
And heard the tremble of her voice, 

As if a fault confessing. 

"I'm sorry that I spelt the word; 

I hate to go above you, 
Because,"— the brown eyes lower fell,— 

1 'Because, you see, I love you ! " 

Still memory to a gray-haired man 

That sweet child-face is showing, 
Dear girl ! the grasses on her grave 

Have forty years been growing ! 

He lives to learn, in life's hard school, 

How few who pass above him 
Lament their triumph and his loss, 

Like her,— because they love him. 

.-■ - J ~"'-*v _ 




v - 5 






<25rantte Jkate |tSaga?me 

Vol. IV. DECEMBER, 1907. No. 6. 

Cfjoreau tn Olb Dunstable 

From Undine and Our Sylvan World 
By Daniel Edwards Kennedy 

(Copyright, 1906, by Daniel Edwards Kennedy) 

In the first two chapters of Mr. Kennedy's book of nature sketches, 
we are given to understand that Undine is the personification of nature 
and a love of nature. So much of a note is necessary for an under- 
standing of a few passages which otherwise would be obscure. A few 
other necessary notes have been added by the author. — Editor. 

£7|f ND we rowed slowly on ... . looking for a soli- 
j^f tary place in which to spend the night. . . . We 
^^ camped at length near Penichook Brook, on the 
confines of what is now Nashville, by a deep ravine, under 
the skirts of a pine wood, where the dead pine leaves were 
our carpet, and their tawny boughs stretched overhead. 
But fire soon tamed the scene; the rocks consented to be 
our walls, and the pines our roof." 

. So Thoreau wrote, when, in 1839, he took his voyage 
on the Concord and Merrimack rivers; taking a long trip 
to Sylvan Worlds, in response to an appeal of Undine. 
And a peculiar charm is given to many of the walks and 
rides that Helayne and I take in our Sylvan World; the 
world once visited by the Concord naturalist. 

One day while on the river bank,* Helayne and I saw 
two French boys in a boat floating by the current. We 
did not think much of it at the time; in truth if they had 

•The Merrimack. 




been men, we probably would never have had our attention 
drawn to their antics. The fact that they were boys, at 
least, made us hopeful for their safety. 

About sixty-five years ago, Thoreauwent up and down 
the same river on which the boys floated by the current. 
Had it not been for the interest that he took in the banks 
of that river we would not have occasion to seek out the 
spot by the Pennichuck Brook, where, so long ago, he 

He sought a solitary place. He seems to have found it. 

". . . We wrapped our buffaloes about us and lay 
down with our heads pillowed on our arms, listening awhile 
to the distant baying of a dog, or the murmurs of the 
river, or to the wind, which had not gone to rest. 

"Perhaps at midnight one was awakened by a cricket 
shrilly singing on his shoulder, or by a hunting spider in 
his eye, and was lulled asleep again by some streamlet 
purling its way along at the bottom of a wooded and rocky 
ravine in our neighborhood." 

I do not think we are liable to forget that part about 
the spider, and, the one thing we could wish, would be, 
that he might tell us how he managed to persuade the 
spider to allow him to fall asleep again. Is it not probable 
that Thoreau allowed it to finish the hunt and learn that 
his eye was no place for flies or webs? A good many peo- 
ple have learned almost as much about Thoreau. 

When Helayne and I were recently in Concord, I 
gazed long at that little stone with "Henry" on it. Through 
a little book in our library I had come to feel as if I had 
some bond of fellowship with that simple man, buried 
beneath so simple a stone in Sleepy Hollow. Only I 
wished he had a Helayne and a Thaddeus.* 

In Concord, when we had climbed the hill and found 
the Thoreau lot, I had expected to see some such enclosure 

♦Thaddeus is the little boy who makes an occasional appearance in 
the book. 


as that of Hawthorne, or some boulder such as marks the 
resting-place of Emerson. I saw a granite head-stone so 
small that I believe I could carry it as easy as a loaded 
dress-suit case. On it was the simple Christian name; no 
date; no quotation. All that was left to be cut on the 
family stone, so that "Henry" was only one of the Thor- 
eaus. Perhaps he wished it so, and perhaps the people 
have respected his wishes more than Bowdoin College has 
respected those of its famous romancer.* 

When we were back in our Sylvan World we thought 
that Thoreau did not need any monument or tombstone 
credentials. We found that we could not go about our 
land without linking his name to it. 

It was not long after we had come to anciently called 
Dunstable that we happened to experience some of the 
same good fortune as Thoreau, when here. We bought a 
book; a book that has some of the sentiments of a first 
edition. It is a first edition; but the book only went 
through one, so that its place of interest is clue more to 
another fact about it. Thoreau read it and had it in his 
small library; a small book called Fox's History of the 
Township of Old Dunstable. We are told by Channing, 
in his storehouse of Thoreau reminiscence, how he came to 
obtain it. 

". . . And, knocking, as usual, at the best house, he 
went in and asked a young lady who made her appearance 
whether she had the book in question. She had — it was 
produced. After consulting it, Thoreau in his sincere way 
inquired very modestly whether she 'would not sell it to 
him.' I think the plan surprised her, and have heard she 
smiled; but he produced his wallet, gave her the pistareen, 
and went his way rejoicing with the book which remained 
in his small library." 

•From an extended study of Hawthorne's life and work, I have come 
to believe that he desired no monument. Bowdoin College unveiled a 
statue on the campus in the summer of 1904. 

250 MAGIC 

The fact that he bought Fox's book, — and buying a 
book meant a good deal to him, even though he only paid 
twenty cents for it, — that fact shows that Thoreau had a 
great interest in the place. 

If you will read it over, or even look up the references 
to it among his collected works, you will easily see what 
the attraction was to Thoreau. 

And he found much in our land, many times more 
than we can find at one glance. For he was one of those 
rare souls who profited most because he bowed at the 
shrine of Undine most often. 

Thoreau lived in very many Sylvan Worlds and prob- 
ably saw more than he ought profitable to tell to his 
neighbor men. Perhaps he was waiting and waiting for 
another man, as the fisherman waits for another fisherman 
before becoming loquacious. 

Helayne and I rejoice because he did not leave us 
without singing a song of sad farewell. He must have 
been rowing when he composed: 

Salmon Brook, 

Ye sweet waters of my brain 

When shall I look, 

Or cast the hook, 
In your waves again? 

By Herbert Bashford 

The giant redwoods looming column-wise 
Show dark green boughs against day's azure skies; 
Night's stars flame out and lo, the branches hold 
A million glowing petals, white and gold! 


By George Bancroft Griffith 

ENRY DUNBAR THOREAU (the middle name 
frequently written David) was born in Concord, 
Mass., July 12, 1817, and became noted as an 
unique and interesting personality. His father was of 
French descent, a merchant first, and when he failed in 
trade he became a pencil-maker. Henry also learned pencil 
making as a boy, and became quite expert at the trade. 
He followed it only at rare intervals throughout his life- 

Thoreau's mother was a Miss Cynthia Dunbar, of 
Keene, New Hampshire, daughter of Rev. Asa Dunbar. 
From his maternal grandfather, who became a lawyer in 
later life, Thoreau inherited many traits of character, it is 
said. Mrs. Thoreau, his mother, was a handsome, high- 
spirited woman, a belle in her day, half a head taller than 
her husband, a tremendous talker and not totally disinclined, 
if tradition is correct, to help other people in conducting 
their business. If all the accounts be true, she was also 
fond of a neighborhood "scrap." From her Thoreau inher- 
ited a love for conversation and probably somewhat of his 
independence of character. His biographer says: 

' "Never in too much hurry for a dish of gossip, he 
could sit out the oldest frequenter of the barroom, and was 
alive from top to toe with curiosity." 

The elder Thoreau, unlike his wife, is described as a 
"small, deaf, unobtrusive man, plainly clad, and minding 
his own business." 

As a child Thoreau was stoical and grave. At six 
years of age he had acquired among his companions the 
title of "Judge." In 1837 he graduated from Harvard 
College. At first he thought somewhat of becoming a 




teacher, but a brief experience in the Concord grammar 
school satisfied him for life. He complained that he had 
to dress for the occasion, and the regular hours, the cut- 
and-dried customs of the school room were too confining: to 
his freedom loving nature, 

He learned surveying and did a little farming. He 
used to work for Ralph Waldo Emerson in that philoso- 
pher's garden, and became an inmate of the Emerson 
household. History tells us that when Emerson and 
Thoreau worked at turning the soil of the kitchen garden, 
Bronson Alcott used to sit on the fence, while they all 
three discussed weighty transcendental problems. About 
that time the schools of transcendentalists were apostles of 
labor; that is, they believed every man should spend a por- 
tion of each day in hard work. So the dignified Emerson, 
the grave Thoreau and Bronson Alcott used to betake 
themselves to the woods and, like Gladstone, spend a few 
hours daily in chopping wood. Emerson was less rugged 
than his two companions, so he sometimes got in his 
appointed task by trimming fruit trees in his own garden. 

All New Englanders, and particularly the natives of 
the Old Granite State, are interested in his published work, 
his first, I think, "A Week on the Concord and Merrimac 
Rivers," (1848). This volume is very original and strongly 
individualized, and clearly indicates that in many respects 
Thoreau was like an East Indian devotee in his disregard 
for the ordinary modes of civilization and his mystical 
devotion to Nature and her laws. Indeed, he was a close 
student and great admirer of Indian literature. He was in 
all respects an apostle of the "simple life." 

It was in 1845 that he entered upon his Walden Pond 
experience, which was responsible as much as anything for 
first bringing him into prominence. 

There have been many conjectures as to Thoreau's 
real object in going to Walden to live. From his own 
statement of the case we find that he had many good and 
sufficient reasons. He wished to discover for himself how 


much or how little was really essential to man's existence, 
for one thing. He also tells us that he went there to 
"transact some private business." Some of this business, 
we strongly suspect, related to a more intimate study of 
nature and some of it, perhaps, was more than tangible, 
such as preparing his manuscripts for publication. He 
also desired to create something with his own hands. "All 
men want," he tells us, "not something to do with, but 
something to do, or rather something to be." 

In first starting for Walden Pond he borrowed an axe 
— presumably from Emerson. Then he went to the shore 
of that body of water, a mile from any house, and on land 
belonging to Emerson felled "some tall arrowy white pines, 
still in their youth" until he had enough timber to build a 
little cabin ten feet wide by fifteen long. 

The total cost of this cabin, not including Thoreau's 
own labor, was twenty-eight dollars and ninepence. 

Here our philosopher lived for two years. During the 
first year he did his cooking at an open fire outside his 
door or in his fireplace The second year he allowed him- 
self the luxury of a stove, but complained because it cov- 
ered up his fire. 

During the period of time that Thoreau lived at Wal- 
den his food was almost entirely free from meat. As he 
grew older he found his taste for meat growing less and 
less, and he finally practically dropped it out of his diet 
altogether. When some one asked Thoreau if he could 
live on a vegetable diet, he replied that he could live on 
nails. The idea which he meant to convey was that the 
mental attitude was the one essential thing. 

During the first eight months of his existence at Wal- 
den his total expense for food was $8.74. He lived princi- 
pally on rice, molasses and bread, the latter made from rye 
and Indian meal and, at first, baked on a shingle before an 
open fire. This famous bread was also made without 
yeast, the philosopher having accidentally discovered that 
it was quite as palatable cooked in that way. 


The "old and timid people" who visited Walden often 
spoke of the distance from the village from a doctor, and 
the danger of sudden sickness and accident. "You would 
suppose," says Thoreau, writing of these people, "that 
they would not go a-huckleberrying without a medicine 
chest." And he adds, "What danger is there if you don't 
.think of any?" 

It was while a resident of Walden Pond, and on one 
of his trips to the village, that this naturalist and philos- 
opher was taken into custody by the town constable and 
committed to jail for refusing to pay some tax which he 
thought unjust. It was a matter of principle with him, 
and when his brother philosopher, Emerson, came to visit 
him at the jail that evening and asked, "Why are you in 
here, Henry?" he replied, "Why are you outside, Waldo?" 
The next morning the stoical man of the woods was 
released and returned to his beloved hermitage. 

The writer dares to believe that every woman who 
reads this article will ask if Thoreau ever had a love affair. 
On this point his biographers are not very expansive. We 
know that he never married, but in his youth it was said 
that he and his brother John were both in love with the 
same girl. A few of Thoreau's earlier poems are slightly 
ardent in character, bespeaking the aroused sentiment in 
the breast of the composer, but all his later works were 
free from anything of the kind. 

"What do we want to dwell near to?" he asks in one of 
his books. "Not to many men surely, the depot, the post- 
office, the bar-room, the meeting-house, the schoolhouse, 
the grocery, Beacon Hill, or the Five Points where men 
most do congregate, but to the perennial source of 


It has truly been said that Thoreau was an apostle of 
plain living and high thinking, and practised what he 
preached. His life was a protest against all forms of 
superfluous comfort, and an effort to reach harmony with 
nature, as the basis of true happiness. 










* ; W 

~X- - 

i-\ 3 

. .- - «V 


<£arlp ^tecoberers of America 

Three Famous Voyages 

By Winsor Brown ell 

In this and other articles to follow will be given accounts of some 
early voyages of discovery in America, previous to the coming of 
C ol u m b u s . — Editor. 

Yonder waters are not spread 

A boundless waste, a bound impassable! 

.... There 
May manly courage, manly wisdom find 
Some happy isle, some undiscovered shore, 
Some resting-place for peace. Where yonder sun 
Speeds now to dawn in glory. 

— Southey. 

'HE history of simple events, as seen through the 
kaleidoscope of other years, is invested with many 
colors. The tongue of to-day will be to a coming 
generation the voice of Tradition, and Tradition's own self 
is Romance; hence, we see the vivid touches of tints and 
shades. Perhaps the illustration is more evident than else- 
where in the accounts of early voyagers and discoverers, 
men who were looked upon as demi-gods, whose achieve- 
ments were miracles. 

All European countries of any importance, and of suf- 
ficient age, claim the distinction of having first discovered 
the western hemisphere; and yet the mooted question is 
unsettled — is likely to remain so. While it was left for 
Columbus to successfully lead the way to the New World, 
beyond doubt earlier explorers had reached its shores long 
in advance of him, and many daring discoverers had per- 
ished in their vain attempts to colonize the new-found 



A wide range of possibilities reaches beyond the ken 
of the mind's eye. With the evidence of a higher civi- 
lization than is existing even at present in our land, who 
can tell what may or may not have been in the dim past? 
Relics of varying stages of power and enlightenment 
speak with more eloquence than pen of contemporary 
tribes of men at different epochs peopling the land, one 
race building upon the ruins of another memorials more 
enduring than scrolls of history. These came successively 
from the West until as we connect as best we may the 
links of the antiquarian's broken chain we are amazed to 
find that the colossal pillars of Egypt are duplicates of 
American monuments; the tongue of the Hebrew, the 
echo of a voice that once stirred its fastnesses; the achieve- 
ments of China the repetition of anterior progress! Who 
can gainsay the truth of the perverted axiom that once 
"Eastward the star ot empire took its way"? Geologically, 
ours is the older continent. Why not historically? 

Among the old songs and legends of Wales, forming a 
short chapter so far back in the huge volume of the book of 
Time that its pages are musty and yellow, its characters 
dim and in places unreadable, even barring the strange 
language in which they are given, are those commemorat- 
ing three famous voyages called "The Three Disap- 

The first, so the weird story runs, was made by a 
Welsh chief named Merlin with a band of chosen followers, 
in a ship of glass! 

Be the legend with any foundation for truth or not, it 
goes on to tell how the vessel sailed away in the wake of 
the westering sun, to return no more. Whether or not her 
hardy crew ever reached the land of the west is unknown. 
And this is called "The First Disappearance," beyond its 
quaint conception remarkable as being the earliest account 
given of a western voyage of exploration. 

Later, or if you would confine us a little more closely 
to dates, in the fifth century, an old sea king, famous in his 


day for his voyages of discovery, sailed westward in search 
of a fabled land, thought to exist somewhere in the realm 
of the setting sun. Gavran went forth into the trackless 
deep never to return, and the Giverdonan Lion — Green 
Islands — existed, as before, only in myth. This was "The 
Second Disappearance." 

In the latter half of the twelfth century, the sons of 
Owen Guyneth, or Gwinnethe, were rivals for the crown 
of North Wales, the contention waxing bitter and fierce 
between the ambitious princes. Finally one of them, 
Madoc — Madawc, the old manuscript gives the spelling — 
tired of the strife and finding that he was losing favor 
among his followers, declared that he would no longer con- 
tend for so light a prize as the crown of his father, but that 
he would sail to the West and, in regions of greater wealth 
and power, establish him a kingdom. 

He was laughed at in scorn, and many taunted him 
with cowardice; but unheeding these sneers the youthful 
prince, for he was little more than a boy, went on with his 
preparations for one of the wildest voyages ever under- 
taken by man. He found admirers with courage enough 
to do his bidding, and willing hands volunteered to aid him. 
Thus one fair day in mid-summer of the year 1170, with 
two crafts fitted out at his own expense, and manned with 
sturdy crews, he sailed out of the little Welsh port, steer- 
ing due west. 

What the thoughts of these gallant adventurers were 
as they saw the last vestige of their native land fade, per- 
haps forever, from their vision, we cannot tell. Madoc, 
every way fitted for the herculean task he had undertaken, 
cheered his followers with promises of great reward and 
pictured to them in glowing terms the wonderful land he 
believed they were to reach. The young prince spoke not 
in vain, and his eloquence had the desired effect of stimu- 
lating his men to hopeful work. 

With no other chart than his vivid imagination and no 
compass save his good judgment, Madoc shaped his course 


to the eye of the westering sun, sailing boldly on into the 
unknown seas, until one fair summer morn there burst 
upon his vision the fairer sight of the land he had longed 
to find. What a glorious scene it must have been to those 
tried adventurers we need not tell. Nor have we more 
than a meager account of how they landed and took posses- 
sion of the country in the name of "King Madoc." 

High beat the heart of the uncrowned monarch as he 
gazed upon the beautiful landscape stretching away beyond 
the bounds of any exploration he could make. It was not 
enough to enjoy this alone with his handful of followers. 
He would return to his native land to spread the story of 
his discovery. Accordingly, leaving behind a portion of 
his trusty companions to guard his possessions, he retraced 
his ocean journey to tell in glowing terms to wondering 
listeners his remarkable account of a country teeming with 
a wealth of forest, of fertile valleys and rivers larger than 
any they had ever seen; of green-clad hills and lofty moun- 
tains, whose crests were white with snow, even in mid- 

We can imagine something: of the wonder and admira- 
tion with which the countrymen of Prince — King now, if 
you please — Madoc heard his marvellous account; and when 
he showed the strange prizes — mementoes that he had 
brought from this new land, his listeners grew fairly wild. 
Enough were ready to accompany him on his second voy- 
age. Ten ships were fitted out, and young Madoc felt him- 
self more than a conqueror. 

Gladly, did they bid adieu to Wales and the friends 
they left behind, eager in their expectations of the future. 
The ship that bore the triumphant king led the little fleet. 

♦From this it would seem that Prince Madoc, on his first voyage, 
landed upon the coast of New England, for the snow-crowned heights 
described could have been none other than Mt. Washington and its com- 
panion peaks. This is, we believe, the first mention of the mountains in 
history. — Author. 


We can imagine, somewhat, the joyous anticipation that 
must have buoyed up the spirits of Madoc. 

Some of the wise ones left behind, however, shook 
their heads, declaring that it would prove "a wild bird 
chase." Of course little of this kind was uttered to the 
knowledge of Madoc, for there were those who were glad 
to get rid of him thus easily. 

For a time the gallant crafts plowed their way boldly 
forward in defiance of the wintry blasts beginning to rule 
the seas. Then the adverse weather began to tell against 
their progress. The strong winds carried them to the 
northward, far from their course. Storms arose that tossed 
them like toys upon the foaming billows. The vessels 
were separated and the unfortunate fleet scattered by the 
winds of the angry deep. 

By this time Madoc must have seen the mistake he 
had made in his anxiety to leave Wales so quickly. He 
had started too late in the season. Already driven to the 
north as he was, he found the cutting blasts of winter 
shrieking among the sails and shrouds of his ill-starred 

It is beyond mortal ken to tell his fate. W T e only 
know that of his brave little fleet not one returned to 
Wales; and we can only conjecture that some of them 
reached the New World. It may have been Madoc's own 
ship, for his was among the strongest; and it may have 
been a weaker and more fortunate one. 

Be it as it will, the mystery was never solved — never 
will be, till the sea shall tell its secrets. And the bards 
and patriots of Wales were content to add to the two a 
"Third Disappearance," allowing the laurels of their navi- 
gators to rest thereon. 

Driven into the countless dangers of the northern sea, 
where the polar bears and the seals held their lonely vigils, 
shrouded in the storms of that frigid clime, hopeless indeed 
must have been the hearts of those daring adventurers. 
But no pen has recounted their sufferings, for no tongue 


has told their fate. 

There is evidence that a part at least of the followers 
of Madoc reached the western continent, not the shores of 
New England, but farther south — perhaps Florida — it may 
have been at the mouth of the Mississippi. 

What their history might have been is unknown. 
Copies of the Welsh Bible in manuscript have been found 
among different tribes of the red men. Morgan, a Welsh 
preacher, five hundred years after Prince Madoc's disap- 
pearance, coming to America, was captured by the Indians 
of North Carolina to find that some of them spoke his own 
anguage, which fact saved his life. 

Indians have been found living in the Mississippi 
valley who had light hair and blue eyes and spoke the 
Welsh tongue. Aiong the upper courses of the same great 
river dwelt a tribe of white Indians, with fair hair and light 
eyes, who conversed in broken Welsh. 

They had a copy in manuscript of the Welsh Bible, 
kept as a mysterious treasure rolled up in the skin of 
lanimals. : Of course they could not read it, or even imagine 
what it was. 

Twenty years later an exploring party discovered a 
similar race in the region of the Red River of the North. 
They, too, spoke the Welsh language and had a W T elsh 
Bible, which they kept with great care and superstition. 

How they came by this knowledge of a language so 
foreign to the surrounding tribes we will not ask, but it 
would certainly appear from their looks and speech that 
they were descended from the followers of Madoc. 

From ,the account of one* who passed several years 
among the Indians of the west, and who was certainly 
qualified to speak, we quote: "I am inclined to believe that 
the ten ships of Madoc, or a part of them at least, entered 
the Mississippi river at Balize, and made their way up the 

♦Catlin. See his "North American Indians", Vol. II., Appendix A, 
with chart. 


Mississippi, or that they landed somewhere on the Florida 
coast and that their brave and persevering colonists made 
their way through the interior to a position on the Ohio 
river, where they cultivated their fields and established in 
one of the countries on earth a flourishing colony; but 
were at length set upon by the savages, whom perhaps they 
provoked to warfare, being trespassers on their hunting 
grounds, and by whom in overpowering hordes they were 
besieged until it was necessary to erect fortifications for 
their defense, into which they were at last driven by a con- 
federacy of tribes, and there held till their ammunition and 
provisions gave out, and they in the end have all perished, 
except perhaps that portion of them who might have formed 
alliance by marriage with the Indians, and their offspring, 
who would have been half-breeds, and of course attached 
to the Indians' side; whose lives have been spared in the 
general massacre, and at length, being despised as all half- 
breeds of enemies are, have gathered themselves into a 
band and, severing from their parent tribe, have moved off, 
increasing in number and strength as they advanced up the 
Missouri river to the place where they have been known 
for many years past by the name of the Mandans* a cor- 
ruption or abbreviation of Madawguys, the name applied 
by the Welsh to the followers of Madawc" — Madoc.f 

In the lake region of our state the Pequawket Indians 
have left remains of mounds or burial grounds, and even 
of fortifications which forcibly remind the archaeologist of 
those in the Ohio valleys, while they indicate that the 

*A tribe living upon the upper Missouri until 1837, when they were 
reduced in number to one hundred and forty-five by the ravages of small- 
pox, the remainder of the tribe assimilating with the Pawnees. They had 
marked traces of civilization, and their fortifications alone of all the red 
men bore evidence'of those in the valleys of the Ohio and Muskingum, 
to which a line of their works could be easily followed. — Author. 

tMandan is a Welsh word meaning red dye. As these Indians were 
experts in its preparation and use, we see at once the aptness of the term, 
and its more reasonable origin. — Author. 


handful of followers left by Madoc in New England united 
themselves to this tribe. Granting this, we have allowed 
into the series of circumstantial evidence a forcible argu- 
ment favoring the theory of the Welsh origin of the Mound 

3]n Mv HcatJta 

By Frank Movroe Beverly 

In My Acadia, long ago — 

'T is nought but mem'ry now — 
Where roses bloomed and jay-birds sang 
On ev'ry swaying bough, 
I lived, but memory 
Is all of Acadia, 

In my Acadia, long ago, 

Where ranged the flocks content. 
And grazing herds with jangling bells. 
About the hillocks went, 
I lived, but do avow 
'Tis nought but mem'ry now. 

In my Acadia, long ago, 

Where fields of yellow grain 
Waved gracefully on ev'ry hand, 
Did peace and plenty reign — 
Again in memory 
I live in Acadia. 

In my Acadia, long ago, 

Were orchards fair to see, 
And lovers walked beneath the trees, 
And whispered vows. Ah, me. 
Acadia is no more: 
O sweetest days of yore. 

In my Acadia, long ago, 

I had a lover fair, 
With rosy cheeks and soft brown eyes, 
And glossy, flaxen hair, 

In summer's golden glow, 
But that was long ago. 

<3H)e ^fjakotos ^en Jrolioto 

A Plain Tale of Plain People, Some of Whom You May Have 
Known, All of Whom Lived a Third of a Century Ago 

By George Waldo Browne 

[Copyright, 1906, by the Author] 
What shadows we are and what shadows we pursue! — Burke. 



One God, one law, one element, 

And one far-off, divine event 

To which the whole creation moves. 

— Tennyson. 

REELAND NEWBEGIN was brought to a con- 
sciousness of his situation by the voice of Captain 
Eb, saying in his nasal, drawling tone: 
"Th' deacon and me both think yaour bid is too high, 
Mister. What d' yaou say to callin' it twenty per cent? 
'Pears that 's erbout all th' taown can stan'." 

The town claimant was in no mood to banter with the 
frightened representative of the community, who missed 
now the cool head of its leader, who was unable to be at 
his post of duty. So the long fight was virtually settled 
there by his silence, and when the chairman of the select- 
men, with an air of victory about him, and yet broken and 
hesitating in his speech, announced to the crowd assembled 
in the hall that the board did not advise paying over twenty 
per cent of the town's valuation, a motion was made and 
carried that it be adopted. 



Freeland Newbegin, who had not entered the hall, 
descended the stairs and was standing near the door, when 
he was joined by his old-time friend, who exclaimed: 

"Hark! it has been decided, and you have won, old 
fellow! I wish to congratulate you, and at the same time 
to give notice that I have stepped out of it, as I should have 
done at the outset." 

"Tut — tut, my good — " began the town claimant, but 
he was interrupted in the midst of his speech by the 
appearance of Life Story, who took him by the arm, 

"The squire must see you at once, sir Come with me." 

"In a moment, Uncle Life. First I have a little duty 
to discharge upstairs." 

As he started to ascend to the upper story he was 
stopped by the man with the jackknife, who had flung that 
useful tool over the stone wall, kicked aside his nail keg, 
and now clasped the hand of the victor, crying in a fer- 
vent tone: 

"Sir, I wish to thank you for the fight you have gained 
for me. I am the true Justin Bidwell, and all this money 
you have won belongs to me. I spurn the squire's bounty 
hereafter. 'Richard is himself again.'" 

Pushing the other almost rudely aside in his excite- 
ment, Freeland Newbegin sprang up the stairs three at a 
stride, until he had reached the top and broken into the 
hall with its surging, noisy crowd. At sight of him a jeer 
was uttered by those nearest, which others quickly caught 
up. Heedless of these cries, as well as of the fact that 
another — a' woman — had followed him up the stairs, and 
was even then entering the hall, he shouted in a voice that 
silenced the outburst of rage: 

"Mr. Moderator, you are fools to vote away your 
money for such a flimsy pretence. I denounce the whole 
affair a farce and wash my hands of it all. It was only a 
hoax to show what fools men can — " 

The woman had now reached his side, but she did not 


• ... 


seem to see him or to realize aught around her, as she 
cried in a clear, penetrating voice which hushed every 

"I have found it — the paper which Squire Newbegin 
says is proof that father paid the note. His good name is 
vindicated. I — " 

The paper which she had waved over her head now fell 
from her nerveless grasp, while she, overcome by the fear- 
ful ordeal, suddenly began to tremble and fall backward. 
Standing near by Freeland Newbegin caught her in his 
arms, where he held her from sinking to the floor. Obliv- 
ious of the excited spectators he said in a low, earnest 

"It is over, Mary. Look up; your father's name is 
clear. I was trying to make amends for my folly, but I am 
glad you have found the paper to prove his honesty." 

"I am so glad," she whispered in a husky voice, rally- 
ing at the sound of his words. I found it tucked away 
among other papers that have not been disturbed for years. 
The squire — your father — says it is a receipt for the money 
paid, given in place of the note which could not be found. 
You will press your claim further, Free?" 

"No, Mary; only my suit against you. Come — " 

"Sir, the squire is calling for you, and you must come. 
A dying man's wish should be above such leetle matters as 

"Is he so very ill, then? asked the other in anxious 

"The doctor says he can't live, but he will; what is is, 
an' it can't be argified. He took a sudden cold last night, 
being out in 'the rain, and his symptoms were bad this 
mornin', but he has a strong constitution that will pull him 
through. It'll do him good to see you." 

"I am ready and anxious to meet him. You come, too, 
Mary. Lead the way, Uncle Life." 

They were met at the door by Natalie Newbegin, who 
said as she ushered them into the house: 


"I am so glad you have come, Mr. Bidwell. Father 
has been continually calling for you. I do not understand 
it. Please come this way." 

Like one in a dream, the returned prodigal allowed 
himself to be led into the room where the sick man lay, so 
greatly changed from his last appearance that he involun- 
tarily shrank back. This was the signal for a beautiful 
woman in middle life, whom he quickly knew must be Mrs. 
Newbegin, to step forward and, taking him by the hand, 
lead him forward, saying: 

"He has come, Aaron. Do not let him excite you." 

"Bolster up my head, Martha; I want to talk. Oh, do 
not be alarmed; it will do me good to free my mind. 
Young man, what I have to say is between ourselves, so 
take a seat close by me. You need not leave, Mary; nor 
you, Natalie; nor you, Life. All of you stay. I want you 
all to hear what I have to say. First, Mr. Bidwell, I want 
to inquire if your claim has been settled." 

"It has, sir." 

"How much has the town voted to pay you?" 

"Twenty per cent, which I have repudiated. Besides, 
Mary has found the receipt." 

"I knew as much. It might have gone differently 
if I had been on my feet. " But that does not matter. I 
could see how it was going unless the wheels were trigged. 
Your audacity has carried you through, and I must say 
that I admire it. You put me in mind of a boy I knew 
'once, and he came rightfully by his self-confidence. Two 
of this nature cannot agree unless they fully understand 
each other. Unfortunately neither the father nor the son 
in this instance knew himself, to say nothing of understand- 
ing the other. The younger one was inclined to wayward- 
ness, and the older, forgetting that he had walked in the 
same path in his earlier days, undertook to check his wild 
career by commands rather than by object lessons. The 
result might have been foreseen. They quarreled. No 
doubt both were to blame, but the heavier sin must rest 


with the older one, for the reason that he had the advan- 
tage of experience to show him the way. So they parted, 
each going his way cursing the other, and vowing in his 
heart he would never first yield. Years rolled on and they 
never met. 

"I am not going to describe to you the father's pain, 
or his humiliation when he came to realize the mistaken 
step he had taken. A man cannot show his heart-aches to 
the world as a woman can, so he suffered in silence and 
without the credit of having a heart. The mother's 
anguish I shall spare you, as something you cannot compre- 
hend She was never her old self from the day he left. 
In the course of a year intelligence came that he had been 
killed by falling from a building in a distant town. She 
met this account with greater fortitude than she had pre- 
viously displayed, saying in saddened joy: 'Oh, I am so 
glad, for now I shall soon be with him.' 

"The father went to investigate the matter, and soon 
satisfied himself that the report was an error. But she 
would not believe, or have it so. The body was beyond 
power of human recognition, and so he, to soften her 
anguish as much as possible, allowed it to appear as she 
wished. The mangled form was given burial in their pri- 
vate grounds, and a lasting memorial raised to mark the 
spot. Soon, too soon, she found her rest beside him. 
Left alone, how much he would have given to have had the 
lost boy restored, I heed not undertake to tell you. There 
is no gauge by which to measure the grief of the heart." 

So earnest and sincere were the words of the speaker 
that each one around his couch was held with rapt atten- 
tion, so much so that the increasing agitation of him whom 
we have known as Justin Bidwell, until he dropped upon 
his knees and, seizing the hand of the other, cried aloud: 

"Father, forgive me. It was I who erred. It was my 
fault and not yours that this sorrow was brought upon 
mother. Time and again has her sweet face appeared 
before me, and she forgave long since. I feel now that 


you will." 

"I do, my boy!" and the reunited father and son lay 
for a long time in each other's arms, while tears flowed 
from eyes that had not been seen to weep for years. The 
companion of the younger, now known as Thomas Fore- 
castle, as if the scene was too sacred for others to witness, 
withdrew. She whom we are glad to call by that sweet 
name of Natalie followed him and, laying her hand lightly 
on his bowed head, said softly: 

"We have all so much to be thankful for. I have 
heard of your happiness, and wish to give you my congrat- 
ulations. I trust your father will recover." 

' You are very kind. We think he will. He has 
resognized me and the doctor says that will be better than 
any medicine. I never dreamed that Reuben was your 

"If by Reuben you mean Mr. Bidwell, I must confess 
I was as much in the dark as the rest of you. But I am 
glad it is so." 

"So am I," he said, fervently, taking one of her hands 
in his " 

"I am so happy," she murmured. 

"I lack only one thing now to fill my cup to overflow- 
ing," he replied in the same low tone. 

"And that?" she asked innocently; then quickly catch- 
ing his meaning she averted her telltale eyes, though she 
allowed her hand to remain confidingly in his. 

"I loved you from the first," he went on, gaining cour- 
age with each word, "and I was afraid our despicable fight 
against the town might prejudice you against me." 

"Father said that would never amount to anything. 
Has it?" showing by her words that she was in ignorance 
of the result of the town meeting. 

"It will make no difference as far as I am concerned," 
he replied. "But to think that my friend is your brother — 
the squire's son!" 

"It is not clear to me," she said. "But we must not 



forget father," and, her hand still held in his, they rejoined 
the little circle about the couch of the squire. 

"I was too stubborn to acknowledge myself when we 
met," the prodigal was saying, "until you should make the 
first move toward receiving me. In fact, I had come back 
with the purpose of bringing disaster upon those whom I 
had tried to convince myself had wronged me." 

"I knew you from the first, but waited for you to 
speak," declared the father. "Where are you, Natalie, that 
you have no greeting for your new-found brother? And, 
wife, this is our son, the future squire. Have you a mother's 
love for him?" 

"He shall find me a true mother," she replied, kissing 
him. "It seems so strange and sudden, when we all sup- 
posed you dead. Aaron did not hint to me that you had 

*!l was waiting to see how it would turn," he said. 
"Come, Natalie, cannot you realize the good news?" 

Her eyes brimming with tears, she took his hand and, 
as he clasped her in his arms, she murmured her joy. 

"I already feel better," remarked the squire. "I wish 
to say, Freeland, that you carried your case with a vim 
worthy of a better cause. You may not know that the 
real Justin Bidwell given in that note, and whose name 
you took so recklessly, is, and has been for years, living 
with me. It was he who lost the trunk, while on his way 
hither, from a fit of mental aberration. His little boy dying 
soon after, he came here to live. He is a ne'er-to-do-well, 
not being quite right in his mind. I never told any one his 
real name. You will live with me, I hope, for I have 
enough for both." 

"I dare say it will be best. I am tired of my wander- 
ings, and wish to settle down." 

"I am glad of it. You shall take the lead here and 
that will give me a needed rest. The town needs younger 

"Where is Mary, wife? A more true-hearted girl never 


lived. She was here a little while since." 

"She went into the sitting room, when — but I will call 

"If you please, I will find her," said the young squire. 

Then the returned prodigal, with such emotions as he 
had never felt in all his wanderings, swiftly sought her 
whom he had longed to meet, and yet feared to seek, since 
coming to town. Let us draw the veil over the reunion, 
with full faith in woman's forgiveness and the truth that 
those who have suffered are able to love the most sincerely. 

Meanwhile Uncle Life, who had been a happy witness 
to the foregoing scenes, had begun to move uneasily say- 
ing at last: 

"There's a big crowd at th' door, an' folk seem to want 
to know th' good news. I'll be back soon, squire," and 
with these words he passed from the room. As he opened 
the outer door he was greeted by a storm of questions from 
the anxious group without. His honest countenance 
lighted with genuine pleasure at the thought of the glad 
announcement. he had to make. In that mellow voice of 
his, which fell like oil on troubled waters, he said: 

"I have glorious news for you all. If you would 
believe it, gentlemen, the squire has found his son. You'll 
be s'prised to know it is he who was the town claimant. If 
the squire an' I knowed it from th' fust, we thought best 
not to say it until he was ready to speak. This saves th' 
town, and you can go home thankin' your stars there are 
two squires instead of one. Hear that leetle squirrel 
chitter in th' maple! He knows our joy. He'll sing louder 
when th' wedding bells ring out for the double wedding; 
ay, twice a double hitch, for Job and Bim have concluded 
to sort of even up matters by him taking Sarah, and Bim 
takin' Belindy. Fair exchange is no robbery, an' it would 
have been th' properest thing for 'em to have done at the 
fust. Then there is th' new Squire Newbegin, who is 
bound to marry, by-and-by, his ol' flame, an' that other 
youngster will hitch up with Nat. Anyway Sunset is 

. -» ■.. . - .-...,., . .. pprngB 

'■"- : '" ; -'-v .'"V : " 


N s \ 

.,> S *^ 

.' . . 

' - 

s fo 





bound to kite! I'm goin' to draw a new plan for a big 
town house this evenin', to set right here where th' squire's 
store stands. What is is an' it can't be argified. Th' way 
things have come round reminds me of a leetle experience 
I had—" 

The cheering of the onlookers drowned the voice of 
the sage, and his story cannot be recorded in this veracious 

The End. 

Come ^ome 

By Alice D. O. Greenwood 

"Come home! come home!" A thousand voices, 
Seem calling to me, night and day. 
Beyond the desert, far beyond the mountains, 
Methinks I hear them say, 
"Come home! come home!" 

"Come home 1 come home!" the rooftree seems to whisper, 
The rose that clambers o'er the garden wall, 
The brook that hurries through the upland pasture, 
All nature seems to call, 

"Come home! come home!" 

"Come home! come home!" 

As fair as dreams of Eden's gardens be, 
But vain the lure of all their wondrous beauty, 
When gray hills call to me, 
"Come home! come home!" 

Partfjema <£. ^urb-^Uen 

A Sketch of Some Newport Families 

By R. W. Allen, Detroit, Mich. 

IED in Detroit, Mich., January i, 1907, Parthenia 
E., widow of Mark W. Allen. 

Who was this Mrs. Allen? How few now living 
in Newport could answer that question, yet with the early 
history of this town she was closely connected. "While 
quite young she joined the Congregational church in New- 
port, and to the end held fast to her religious convictions." 
She is survived by her two children. She was one of the 
few citizens of Newport, who had seen this village grow 
from a cluster of log huts, "for she was born in one," in 
the forest on the old Claremont road, to this modern, busy, 
buzzing, up-to-date, New England village; although more 
than ninety years of age, she was a constant reader of the 
Newport papers. 

She was a direct descendant of a Revolutionray officer 
who went from Newport. She was the first child of Par- 
menas and Sophia (Dean) Hurd, of this town; born in the 
old Hurd house, which has been known for the past fifty 
years as the Endicott Farm, in the west part of the town, 
February 3, 1816. Her father was born in the same house 
in 1790. He learned the harness trade of Phinneus Wil- 
cox in 1805, whose shop at that time stood at the foot of 
Claremont Hill, on the site of George H. Fairbanks' house. 
At this time there were but twenty-one voters in the 
village. He moved to Vermont in 1832, and in 1837 went 
west to the town of Hally, New York, where he died only 
a few' years since. Her great-grandfather, Sam Hurd, was 
born in Killingworth, Conn., in 1737, and was among the 
first settler of Newport in 1764, his log cabin standing 



near where the A. Peasbrick house stood twenty years ago, 
on the Unity road, which was his home from 1765 to 1780, 
when he erected the first frame house south of the bridge 
on the Goshen road, known for a long time as the Leonard 
Richard's house. He lived here until his death in 18 10. 
His remains are buried in the old Pine Street cemetery. 
He held every office for the town within the gift of the 
people. He was selectman, a representative, a member of 
congress that met at Plainfield about 1775 and was one of 
the most prominent men among the early settlers. His 
name should always be linked with the early settlers of 
this town. He served in the Revolutionary War, was at 
Saratoga and Bennington and was mustered out a captain 
of Continental troops at the close of the struggle. His 
descendants are many, but few of them reside in Newport. 

The hallowed shadows of the misty past falls over the 
Allen and Hurd families, who assembled at her burial. 
She was the nonagenarian of her tribe. She came from 
Newport's oldest and most respectable families, and from 
hearsay knew much of its earliest history. She often told 
stories of' her early life and what her father, Parmenas 
Hurd, saw and knew of the frontier days in Newport. 

Sixty years ago she was the presiding genius of a 
well-ordered household. Her heart was full of sympathy, 
as her hands were full of work, and she ministered to the 
needs of the less prosperous neighbors, those whom poverty 
vicissitudes and sickness had overtaken, giving not only 
sympathy, but bread and garments and help. In this old 
representative family of Newport, we can find the true 
element ot happiness and prosperity; industry and economy 
on the farm, and assiduity and frugality in the household. 
A well-spread board, cheerful hearthstone, the large, old- 
fashioned blazing fire — surrounded by happy faces and lov- 
ing hearts enjoying the games and frolics of childhood and 
of youth. Here was the fountain-head of that love for the 
old home that wells up in all hearts, and is with us in all 
the sterile ways through which we may pass to the last 


days' journey of this world's life. She was the eldest of 
six children that blessed the union of Parmenas Hurd and 
Sophia (Dean) Hurd, who were married the first day of 
January, 1815, at the residence of Abijah Wines, in New- 
port known as the "Aiken Farm." All but one of the 
children were born on the old Hurd Farm. Parmenas 
Hurd's children were: Parthenia E., the subject of this 
sketch, born February 3, 18 16; Luther D., born August 13, 
1819; Lucia D., born April 19, 1821; Ann Sophia, born 
April 3, 1823; Samuel Henry, born in Newport, July 31, 
1828; Abijah Milton, born in Guilford, Vt, January 8, 

Mrs. Allen was probably the oldest member of the 
Congregational church in Newport who ever attended 
divine services in the old meeting house, erected in 1792, 
on the knoll, a few rods south of the foot of Ciaremont 
Hill. When a child, she attended meetings, coming nearly 
three miles from the old Hurd Farm. She was a life 
director in the American Tract Society. Her grandmother 
was one of the first to join the One Cent Society of 
Connecticut. For the missionary cause they pledged them- 
selves to pay one cent per month. This society came into 
existence about i8co. Her father, Parmenas Hurd, was a 
grandson of Capt. Samuel Hurd, of Revolutionary fame; 
her mother, Sophia Dean, was the only daughter of Major 
David Dean, an old-time tavern keeper, on the old Ciare- 
mont road, near the Ciaremont line. In 1825 her father 
moved to Elizabethtown, New York, and resided there 
until 1 830, when he moved to Proctorsville, Vt. He worked 
at his trade, had plenty to do and good pay, as he was the 
only one who could do the fine stitched and upholstered 
saddles in that part of the country. This was the time 
when traveling was mostly done on horseback. There were 
many of these fine goods sought for and they brought a 
good price. He and Mr. Proctor were partners. She 
taught school at Proctorsville, Vt., and Senator Proctor 
was one of her pupils, a youngster in kilts. Mr. P was 


father of the town, and he had the selling of the goods. 
Many of them went to Canada, and rumor had it that they 
paid very little duty. They made much money for those 
times. Parmenas Hurd's family at this time consisted, 
besides his wife, of Parthenia E., subject of this sketch, 
and two other of the children that were old enough to help 
about the business. The eldest daughter often told with 
pride what fine stitching she could do with bright colored 
silks on the fine saddles. She could make one dollar a day, 
which was great pay for those times. In 1837 the western 
fever caught him, as three of his wife's brothers, Calvin, 
Edward and Abijah Dean, of Claremont, had gone to 
Holly, N. Y., and sent back glowing accounts of the wheat 
that could be raised in the great Genesee Valley of that 
country. The subject of this sketch came back to New- 
port and taught school in the Perry district. The school 
was not far from where she was born. This was when she 
was but sixteen years old. The next year she took a posi- 
tion with Mr. Nailor Starbord, the bon ton tailor of the 

She married Mark W. Allen at her father's home in 
Cabotsville, Vt., December 8, 1836. She came of distin- 
guished ancestry and was eligible to membership in the 
Society of Colonial Dames and the Daughters of the Revo- 
lution. She came from an illustrious line of fighters for 
their country. Col. Elnathan Hurd (her grandfather third 
removed), of the English army under King George, fought 
in the French and Indian Wars, for Connecticut, about 
1730. Later his two sons, Samuel and Nathan, espoused 
the Colonial cause and fought against the English. Sam- 
uel held a commission as captain in a company of minute 
men, who left Newport for Ticonderoga in 1775. He was 
one of the first bunch of young men who came here in 
1764. Tradition says he and the Indian scouts and trappers, 
Eastman and Flanders, were old friends, and that Sam 
Hurd was the cause of the scout, Eastman, going up the 
Shugar River Valley trapping, the winter of 1760. It was 


really to spy out a new country as good as the Connecticut 
Valley, as they had often heard of the rich and fertile 
valley to the east of the great river of Connecticut; as they 
had often been up to No. 4. A murder was committed on 
the very threshold of this new town (Newport) about the 
year 1775, m tne lonely, dark forest, before any but French 
soldiers and their allied friends, the Indians, had wandered 
up and down this fair valley, when it was under the rule of 
a king, on the farm of Reuben Haven, near a babbling 

The next tragedy in this vi lage was at the raising of 
the first Congregational meeting-house on the knoll south 
of the Claremont road. This was in 177 1. This spot was 
long afterwards called the bloody hill, by the first settlers. 
The stains of the blood that was spilled upon the great 
timbers of this first meeting-house, it is said, can be seen 
to-day on a farmer's barn, a mute record of the terrible 
tragedy, where they are used to keep the roof in place. 

The Rev. Mr. Seames and his son were invited guests 
at Capt. Sam Hurd's, to attend the raising of the church. 
They came the day before, from New London. They were 
old friends and neighbors. The terrible tragedy came like 
lightning from a clear sky, and the youth breathed his last 
in Capt. Sam Hurd's house. This was in 1793. 

The next tragedy was the death of the eldest daughter 
of Capt. Sam Hurd, a bright girl, ten years of age, by the 
fall of a tree, near where the old South church now stands. 
This was in 1771. She was on her way to visit Sam Hurd's 

May 7, 1801, a daughter of Jess Lane fell into the 
river and was drowned, while crossing a foot-bridge which 
was being constructed from two large elms, fallen from 
opposite sides of the river. Being close together and the 
upper part being scaled off, they were used for many years 
for a foot-bridge, going and coming from the home on the 
Unity road to Mr. Lane's new house on the Goshen road. 
About five rods south was the ford where the teams 


crossed. Many people crossed from one road to the other 
by this path. It was kept open until the death of Capt. 
Sam Hurd, in 1810. 

The town of Newport was started on paper about 
1760, in the little sea-girt towns of Saybrook and Killings- 
worth, Conn. Capt. Sam Hurd and a few of his neighbors 
a few years later succeeded in carrying out the project in 
1766. The subject of this sketch recalled many of the 
interesting stories which came down from her grandfather, 
Capt. Sam Hurd. Her father, Parmenas Hurd, left many 
valuable documents of early Newport, which may be pub- 
lished later. She was the last of this Hurd family that 
was born in Newport. With absolutely no use for doctors, 
able and spry at ninety years of age, she always enjoyed 
the best of health, and spent during her lifetime a total of 
five dollars in doctors' bills. 

Her grandfather's farm, the old Hurd homestead, was 
an open door to the poor. Many a poor child found an 
asylum here, and was taken in, cared for and received 
Christian teachings and examples. It was on this old farm- 
stead that a young orphan homeless and friendless, found 
a good home and warm hearts by this old fireside to cheer 
him on. He died of old age a few years since, one of Bos- 
ton's millionaire merchants. 

Two bright young men (not bearing the name of 
Hurd) left this old fireside about 1820, where they had 
been brought up from childhood, and had found a good 
home, and they were tutored along the lines of that old 
Puritanical religion which made men think more of eternity 
than of gold. They had the regular winter's schooling 
when they went out into the world. They were reckoned 
among the foremost business men of New England. They 
passed over the great river only a few years since. 

There was another who always remembered this old 
Hurd farmstead with a quick beating eart. His father 
was gone and the hand of death was upon his idolized 
mother. This youth, homeless and penniless, with no 


relations, had just parted with his last money to purchase 
a few flowers to place upon his mother's rude coffin, when 
he was cast out upon the cold world. Late one night, 
tired and without money, after a long walk, he reached the 
door of the old Hurd home, and was welcomed. Although 
not bearing their name, he attended school, improved his 
opportunity, became rich and was a respected citizen of 
the great southwest, and filled many offices of trust, and 
he believed in the hereafter. 

These facts came from the subject of this sketch, as 
she was born in this, her grandfather's home, in 1816. 

Adam Hurd, born in England in 1639, came to Strat- 
ford, Conn., when a small boy. He left a younger brother 
at home in England, named Elnathan, who never came to 
this country. That is why the name of Elnathan comes 
down to us as the family traditions of the English follow 
down the line. 

Adam Hurd married Hannah in Woodbury, 

Conn., where he lived and died. They had six children. 
The third son, born November 9, 1668, they named Eben- 
ezer. He married Sarah Lane and lived in Saybrook, 
Conn. And Robert Lane, who was one of the first settlers 
of Newport, N. H., the original plat of the village. The 
number of his lot was 50. He was also the brother of the 
wife of Justus Hurd, who was Sarah, daughter of Robert 
Lane, Sr., of Killingworth, Conn., and Justus Hurd was a 
cousin of Capt. Sam Hurd, of Revolutionary fame. Some 
of Justus Hurd's descendants resided in Croydon, N. H., 
about 1840. When Capt. Sam Hurd started for the wilder- 
ness, what now constitutes the village of Newport, in 
1760, several years before the village was incorporated, 
Justus Hurd, his cousin, was with him, and also the famous 
scout and Indian fighter, Eastman, came along. They 
dodged Indians and French soldiers. This story of their 
hunting and spying out the Shugar River Valley that time 
reads like a border romance; it was full of thrilling episodes. 
Eastman and Flanders were familiar with the trails as they 



- ■-■■ . 


passed through this country during the French and Indian 
Wars. They had no trouble in finding the two famous 
springs, the one at the foot of Claremont Hill, where they 
camped, then afterwards found the famous Indian Medical 
Spring. Many years ago Harmon Richardson owned the 
farm and this celebrated spring in the valley between 
Northville and Kelleyville, not far from the river. There 
was once a heavy wall of stone about it. 

When hunting, they always followed, from the Connec- 
ticut River, the west branch of the Shugar River, and 
toted their canoes around the rapids, where Claremont now 
is, and followed on up the stream, which at that time was 
much deeper and swifter than now. At that time an Indian 
trail followed the river west to No. 4, on the Connecticut 
River. It was years after, when they settled at the foot of 
Claremont Hill, that they came over the Unity Hills and 
up the south branch of the Shugar River. After the 
incorporation of the town, in 1765, Capt. Sam Hurd and 
his cousin, Justus Hurd, came up the Connecticut River 
together. Captain Sam pushed on to what was afterwards 
Newport, N. H., while Justus settled in the new town of 
Gilsum, near Keene. All the general stock of Hurds in 
and about Killingworth and Say-Brook, Conn., came from 
Adam Hurd, and all the Hurds in Newport came from this 
general stock. 

Eastman and Flanders were two daring Indian fighters 
and scouts for the New Hampshire Rangers. Eastman 
was a relative of the Hurds in Connecticut, and Flanders 
was related to the Webbers of Hopkinton, N. H., and 
they were the first white men to explore the beautiful and 
wild meadows of Newport. Flanders was followed by the 
Indians, waylaid and killed, and French gold was paid for 
his scalp at Montreal. This is true and can be verified. 
On the farm of Reuben Haven were found the bleaching 
bones of this daring scout. They were buried by the early 
settlers, and the place where the bloody deed was perpe- 
trated was marked, but to-day no trace of it can be found 


Would it not be fitting and proper that the Daughters of 
the American Revolution take this matter up, and place a 
cross or a proper tablet as near as possible where the 
bloody deed was committed? No one of the present gen- 
eration knows where the dust of the first white man of this 
town sleeps. Why do not the Daughters of the American 
Revolution make a plat and a directory of the old Pine 
Street cemetery, where the ashes of so many of the 
defenders of these infant colonies repose? They were 
brave men, and many of them held commissions as ensigns 
and captains of the Continental Congress. 

Why does not the Congregational church of Newport 
also mark with proper tablet the blood-stained timber in the 
old frame barn, which was the first blood spilled for the 
first Christian church ever erected in this town? 

Elnathan Hurd, born October 17, 1699, was the third 
son of Ebenezer Hurd, who married Thankful Nettleton, 
of Killingsworth, Conn., December 4, 1724. So Capt. Sam 
Hurd, born in Killingworth, Conn., November 1, 1734, was 
the fifth child of Elnathan Hurd and Thankful Nettleton 
of the same town. Samuel Hurd, 2d, born November 12, 
1758, was the first child of Capt. Sam Hurd and Lida (Wil- 
cox) Hurd of Killingworth, Conn. Samuel Hurd, 2d, mar- 
ried, May 1, 1782, Anna Thurstin, of Unity, N. H. Par- 
menas Hurd (author of the famous fireside talks of early 
Newport, which may later be printed) was born in New- 
port, N. H., September 3, 1790, and was the second child 
of Samuel Hurd and Anna Thurstin. Who was the father 
of Parthenia E. Hurd, widow of Mark W. Allen, the sub- 
ject of this sketch? 

The first six young men who came to Newport to make 
a settlement' were all related by marriage as early as 1769. 
They got together at Joseph Wilcox' house, in Say-Brook, 
Conn., and planned a hunting trip up the Connecticut 
River and its tributaries. Sugar River Valley was teeming 


with fur-bearing animals, and the intervale land was warm 
and fertile, and so the charter for the town was applied for. 
It was the time when Benning Wentworth was handing 
out such donations all over New Hampshire and Vermont. 

Capt. Sam Hurd married Lydia Wilcox. Jesse Wil- 
cox was her brother. Jesse Kelsey married Hester Hurd, 
a cousin of Captain Sam. (All of these people were of 
Connecticut.) Nathan Hurd at this time was not married. 
Jesse Lane married Hester Wright, a marriage relation of 
Justus Hurd. Robert Lane married Mary Thatcher, who 
was also related to the Hurds. 

William Kelsey, of Cambridge, Mass., was made a 
freeman in 1632. In 1635 he moved to Hartford, Conn., 
and thence to Killingworth, Conn., in March, 1663. Lieut. 
John Kelsey died in 1709. He married Pheby Disdro\v(he 
was related to the Hurds). Hannah Kelsey, born Septem- 
ber 13, 1668, married Lieut. Joseph Wilcox, February 14, 
1693. He died in September, 1747. Their son, Stephen 
Wilcox, born July 12, 1706, married May 10 and died 
December 22, 1781. This Stephen Wilcox married Mary 
Pierson, and their daughter was Lydia Wilcox, who became 
the wife of the famous Capt. Sam Hurd. 

Lieut. Joseph Wilcox, of Killingworth, Conn. (1663), 
was the son of William Wilcoxson (as they then spelled 
the name). His wife was the daughter of Nicholis Wall. 
Her name was Elizabeth W T all. They were both born in 
England, and died in Thetford, Conn. They came over 
in the good ship "Planter" in 1650. 

Lieut. Joseph Wilcox, 2d, married Hannah Kelsey, 
Stephen Wilcox married Mary Pierson and Lidia Wilcox 
married Capt. Sam Hurd. These people were all from 
Killingworth and Saybrook, Conn. All were young but 
one, and he was seventy years old when Newport was only 
a wilderness. 

CJje ebttor'g TOnboto 

C&e iFiag 

The New Hampshire State Grange, at its recent 
anuual session, unanimously passed a resolution, subject to 
the approval of the National Grange, requesting the subor- 
dinate branches of the order to decorate the altar with the 
American flag. This is a step in the right direction, and 
adds an appropriate association of the flag to the work of 
one of the largest fraternal bodies in the country. It was 
a happy thought which caused it to be displayed on school- 
houses and public buildings, and there is scarcely a public 
gathering where it is not to be seen. Again and again it is 
made the feature of the occasion, which must serve to keep 
alive in the breasts of its citizens that patriotism which 
ennobles it. At a flag entertainment, recently, the 
Worcester (Mass.) Grange offered the following informa- 
tion concerning the flag: 

1. The present form was permanently adopted in 

2. The first American flag was made by Mrs. Betsy 
Ross, of Philadelphia, in 1776. 

3. There are thirteen stripes, red and white, arranged 
alternately, with red at the top, divided into six long and 
seven short ones, one for each of the original thirteen 

4. There is a star for each state, the number at the 
present time being forty-six. Each star has five points. 

5. The regulation of length to width is as twelve to 


the editor's window 283 

6. The regulation size of a garrison flag is 36 feet 
long by 20 feet wide; of a storm, recruiting, and National 
Country flag, 8 feet long by 4 feet and 2 inches. 

It has recently been ordered that the "Star Spangled 
Banner" shall be the national air of the United States 

Clock 3n£crtpttrm£ 

In former times it was the custom of clockmakers to 
inscribe on the dial plates of their clocks quaint verses, one 
of the most common being the following: 

t serve thee here with all my might, 
To tell the time by day, by night, 
Therefore example take by me 
To serve thy God as I serve thee. 

Another favorite inscription was Tempus fugit, or 
"Time flies," and thereby hangs a tale. A well-known 
English clockmaker, who flourished toward the close of 
the last century, on being asked by a customer whether a 
certain clock was of home manufacture, replied: "Oh, cer- 
tainly. Don't you see the name, sir — Tummus Fugit? I 
often have his clocks through my hands." 

The Declaration of Independence was published to 
the world with only two signatures, John Hancock, presi- 
dent, and Charles Thompson, secretary-, under resolution 
of Congress, July 14, 1776: 

Resolved, That copies of the declaration be sent to 
the several assemblies, conventions and committees or 
councils of safety, and to the several' commanding officers 
of the Continental troops; that it be proclaimed in each of 
the United States at the head of the army. 

284 the editor's window 

"Cfjebp Cfjase" 

Dr. Gordon, in his account of Lord Percy's march of 
the British troops through Roxbury, upon the memorable 
19th of April, 1775, relates the following incident: 

"Lord Percy's Brigade marched out playing, by way 
of contempt, "Yankee Doodle," a song composed in deris- 
ion of the New Englanders, scornfully called Yankees. A 
smart boy, observing it as the troops passed through Rox- 
bury, made himseif extremely merry with the circumstance, 
jumping and laughing, so as to attract the notice of his 
lordship, who, it is said, asked him at what he was laugh- 
ing so heartily, and was answered: 'To think how you will 
dance, by-and-by, to "Chevy Chace." ' It is added that 
the repartee stuck by his lordship the whole day." 

The ancestors of Lord Percy, it may be said, were 
concerned in the feats of "Chevy Chase," the famous bal- 
lad ending with the significant declaration: "The child 
unborn shall rue the hunting of that day." Who was the 
boy who so courageously and aptly replied to him? 

The old English ballad referred to is supposed to com- 
memorate the battle of Otterburn, which took place in 
August, 1388, though the incidents of the poem cannot be 
reconciled with history. Sir Philip Sidney declared, "I 
never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas, that I did 
not find my heart moved more than with a trumpet." It 
was originally called "The Hunting o' the Cheviot." 

' UongfeHofco'g Ititerarp QZatt 

"It is apparent that Longfellow possessed," writes 
Bliss Perry, in the March Atlantic, "to a very notable 
degree, an instinctive literary tact. He knew, by a gift of 
nature, how to comport himself with moods and words, 
with forms of prose and verse, with the traditions, conven- 
tions, unspoken wishes of his readers. Literary tact, like 


V; : 

the editor's window 285 

social tact, is more easy to feel than to define. It does not 
depend upon learning, for professional scholars conspicu- 
ously lack it. Nor does it turn upon mental power or 
moral quality. Poe, who could not live among men with- 
out making enemies, moved in and out of the borderland of 
prose and verse with the inerrant grace of a wild creature, 
sure-footed and quick-eyed. Lowell, whose social tact 
could be so perfect, sometimes allowed himself, out of 
sheer exuberance of spirits, to play a boyish leap-frog with 
the literary proprieties. The beautiiul genius of Emerson 
often stood tousrue-tied and awkward, confusing and con- 
fused, before problems of literary behavior which to the facile 
talent of Dr. Holmes were as simple as talking across 
a dinner table. But Longfellow's literary tact was always 
impeccable. He divined what could and could not be said 
and done under the circnmstances; he escorted the Muses 
to the banquet hall without stepping on their robes; he met 
the unspoken thought with the desired word, and — a 
greater gift than this — he knew when to be silent." 

Cf)? ^preab of <£ngiistf) 

English is already the spoken and written language of 
Great Britain, Canada, the United States, Australia, South 
Africa, and all of official India. This, taken together, is a 
pretty large proportion of the entire earth. Recently the 
German government has ordered that all railway officials 
and employees must learn to speak English, and the order 
has caused no such excitement as would be caused in this 
country by a similar requirement to learn French or Ger- 
man or Italian. In Antwerp the authorities are urging all 
classes to study English, and are providing special facil- 
ities in the public schools. In Japan all school children 
are now required to learn English. It is expected that in 
a few years our language will be in as general use in Japan 

286 the editor's window 

as the native language. With such an increase in the use 
of English, it is obvious that less and less importance will 
be attached to the development of any form of artificial 
language, as Volupuk and the newer device known as 
Esperanto, although the later and newer invention is said 
to be much more popular than the older, but a less adapt- 
able device for common speech. 

©tecoberp of <Go!b 

The first piece of gold found in the United States was 
in Cabarras county, North Carolina, in 1799. It was picked 
up by a boy named Conrad Reed, on the bank of a creek 
near his father's farm, one Sunday afternoon. It attracted 
his attention while wading, and he picked it up and carried 
it home to his mother, who used it as a weight to keep her 
kitchen door open. In 1802 it was pronounced gold by a 
jeweler of Fayetteville, who happened to be at the house. 
He took it home, melted it into a bar eight inches long, and 
sold it for '$3 50. — Mary L. D. Ferris. 


Company OrberS 

To Benj. Thompson, Jr.: 

You, being enrolled in the 3d Company, 25th Regi- 
ment New-Hampshire Militia, are hereby notified to appear 
at or near the Hay Scales in this town, on Tuesday, the 
second day of May next, at 1 o'clock p. m. completely 
armed and equipped according to law for inspection and 
military exercise, and there await further orders. 

By order of Wm. J. THOMPSON, Captain. 
Durham, April 26, 1826. 

OBrantte J>tate Jpaga^me 

Vol. IV. 

3 .H&ontJjlp Publication 

[Copyrighted. 1907.] 

JULY, 1907. 

No. 1, 


Terms: — Per Annum $1.50 

Eight Months 1.00 

Single Copy . 15 

To Authors. — The editor respectfully solicits contributions relating to state history, biography and legend 
from those who are in possession of any incidents or narrative cf local or general interest. Any one not a regular 
writer, and not situated to put his notes into readable form, is requested to send the rough draft and we will under- 
take to put it into manuscript for the printer. Every article received will be carefully read and returned, if found 

Address plainly : Editor Granite State Magazine, 

No. 64 Hanover Street. Manchester, N. H. 

Entered as second-class matter, December 21, 1905, at the post office at Manchester, New Hampshire, under 

the Act of Congress of March 3, 1879. 

Printed by Thk Ruemfly Press, 143 Hanover St., Manchester, N. H, 


Origin of thk Name America. (Illustrated) George Waldo Browne 5 

When the Cows Come Home. (Poem) Agnes E. Mitchell 15 

Grave of a Revolutionary Hero. (Illustrated) Gray Fairlee 17 

Tsi enn KTO. ( Poem) Henrietta W. F. Frost 19 

Scour Journal of C apt. John White 21 

The Whip-poor-will. (Poem) 29 

Flag of For t George Victor St. Clair 30 

The Shadows Men Follow. (Serial) George Waldo Browne 34 

The Editor's Window The Editor 47 

Liter a ry Leaves 50 

Cfje t©oobranger Cales' 

By George Waldo Browne 

A Series of Historical Novels devoted to a description of pioneer 
life on the Old New England and Canadian frontiers. Three volumes, 
tall i2mo., in uniform binding. Price, $1.25 each. 

THE WOODRAN'GER. A Story of the Pioneers of the Debatable Ground. Illus- 
trated by L. J. Bridgman. 312 pp; $1.25, , 


The scene of this book is the tract of country along the Merrimack River claimed by 
the settlers from Massachusetts and New Hampshire. Among the historical characters 
ire young John Stark, afterwards famous as General Stark, William Stark, his older 
brother, the Captain under Wolfe at the taking of Quebec, Robert Rogers, later known as 
' Rogers the Ranger," Col. John Goffe, the noted scout and Indian tighter, besides others. 
the MacDonalds, of Glencoe, the McNeils, of Londonderry, and that semi-historic and 
romantic forester, " The Woodranger." It portrays in a picturesque manner the home-life 
}f the colonists, their trials and hardships, their sports and adventures in the clearing and 
in the wilderness. 

THE YOUNG GUNBEARER. A Tale of the Neutral Ground, Acadia, and the 
Siege of Louisburg. Illustrated by Louis Meynell. 

Robert Rogers is "The Young Gunbaarer," who, in companionship of The Wood- 
ranger, finds himself in Acadia a short time before the breaking out of that colonial war 
cnown in New England as " King George's War." The idyllic life 'of the Acadians is faith- 
fully described, while Evangeline, the heroine of Longfellow's beautiful poem, becomes a 
:haracter in the story, and her home is the scene of one of its most stirring incidents. 
Others of the poet's characters are met here, while the reader gets a clearer idea of the 
causes leading up to that pathetic event than can be obtained from the histories, as it 
deals directly with the home life of the unfortunates, which historians cannot do. 

Our heroes became associated on Cape Breton. Louisburg, with those who engaged 
in that remarkable campaign. Prominent were Major Vaughan, the promoter, Dr. Matthew 
Thornton, afterwards a signer of the Declaration of Independence, Captain John Gotfe, 
the frontier scout, Captain Waldron, a son of Major Waldron, the brave young ensign 
Edward Hyland, the hero of Louisburg, Robert Rogers, who became the chief of The 
Gunbearers, and Woodranger. The narrative abounds with local colorings and legends, 
while the mysterious Woodranger throws a deeper interest over the historic tale. To those 
who have read " Evangeline " it must prove doubly interesting. 

THE HERO OF THE HILLS. A Tale of the Captive Ground, St. Francis, and 
Life in the Pioneer's Home, and in the Northern Wilderness. Illustrated by Henry W. 

The time of this story is just prior to the breaking out of the French and Indian Wars 
ind the scene is that wide strip of country lying between the English settlements on the 
\tlantic coast and the French stations along the St, Lawrence River, and which is now 
mbraced within the territory^of New Hampshire. Vermont and Canada. The first half 
)f the "The Hero of the Hills" is devoted to the home life of the colonists in the Merri- 
nack Valley; then the scene is transferred to the head-waters of the Pemigewasset, where 
e meet a typical hunting party, of those days This is broken up by the appearance of a 
par party of Indians from the North, and John Stark, the hero, and a companion named 
astman-are taken captives. The journey of the captors and their victims over the old 
ndian trail is vividly portrayed. The story culminates in one of the most dramatic and 
ublime events in the history of early New England. 

In their quality, make-up and general appearance The Woodranger Talks are the 
qual to any of the $1.50 books. We will give you the choice of any one of them and 
;nd the Granite State Magazine one year for $2 .25, with 15 cents for postage on book. 

64 Hanover Street. Manchester, X. IL 

OBrantte J>tate ^aga^tne 

21 Jttonttjlp Publication 

[Copyrighted, 1907.] 

ol. IV. AUGUST, 1907. No. 2. 


Terms:— Per Annum. $1.50 

Eight Months 1.00 

Single Copy 15 

To Authors. — The editor respectfully solicits contributions relating to state history, biography and legend 
Dm those who are in possession of any incidents or narrative of local or general interest. Any one not a regular 
riter, and not situated to put his notes into readable form, is requested to send the rough draft and we will under- 
ke to put it into manuscript for the printer. Every article received will be carefully read and returned, if found 

Address plainly: Editor Granite State Magazine, 

No. 64 Hanover Street, Manchester, N. H. 

itered as second-class matter, December 21, 1905, at the post office at Manchester, New Hampshire, under 
the Act of Congress of March 3, 1879. 

. _ 

Printed by The Ruemely Press, 143 Hanover St., Manchester, N. H. 


ur River. (Poem — Linen Insert) John Greenleaf Whittier 53 

iterary Associations of the Merrimack River. (Illustrated) 

George Waldo Brcnune ~)7 

evolutionary Pension Declarations Lucien Thompson 67 

Magnolia and Pine. ( Poem) T. C. Harbaugh 90 

he Shadows Men Follow. (Serial) George Waldo Browne 101 

he Editor's Window The Editor 110 

iterary Leaves 112 

Ct?mini£cence£ of l©fjtttter 

We are glad to announce that the popnlar atricles giving the per- 
nal recollections of Whittier, by Prof. J. Warren Thyng, are about to 
i issued in pamphlet form with an attractive original cover design, 
o more beautiful publication, relating to him who, if not a native, 
^serves much of the Granite State, has been published. Only a lim- 
d number has been printed. Sent postpaid for fifty cents. 


• 64 Hanover St. Manchester, N. H. 



The New Visible FOX 

is the latest and only perfect visible Type- 
writer that correctly solves the objections 
that heretofore have always been made 
against frontstroke machines. 

Key Tension, 2 1-2 ounces; Aluminum 
Key Levers; Bail-Bearing Carriage ; Two- 
Color Ribbon ; Interchangeable Carriage . 
Tabulator Line Lock. 

The Fox courts scientific investi- 
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141 Hanover St., Manchester, N. H. Tel. 309-12. 

General Agents for New Hampshire for the 

Light Running Blind and Visible FOX, and the Low Priced POSTAL, 
The Best HIGH AND LOW PRICED Writers in the World 


We have a limited number of the following books which we offer at special re- 
ductions in price to subscribers to the Granite State Magazine. These books are new 
and in good condition, unless otherwise stated. Sent postpaid. 

DERRYFIELD. now Manches- 
ter, N. H., Vol. I, 1751-1782. 
Vol. II, 1782-1800. Compiled 
and edited by George Waldo 
Browne. Cloth, gilt top, oc- 
tavo, deckle edge, 400 pp., 
map and illustrations. Price 

X. II., by William Little. 
Octavo, cloth, illustrated, over 
300 pp , 1870. Price, $3.00. 
To subscribers of this magazine 
$2.00. Mr. Little was a pain- 
taking historian and his History 
of Warren contains more infor- 

§2.50 each. These boolvs are of ! mation regarding the Indians 

great value to those interested 
in the early history and gen- | 
ealogy of this vicinity. A | 
special discount of twenty-five 
per cent made to subscribers of 

this magazine. 

"Granite State Pub. Co.. 

of New Hampshire than any oi 
its state histories. 


HAMPSHIRE. Alonzo J. Fog,-. 

Sheep, map and illustrations. 

I good second hand condition. $3. 

For Sale By the 

64 Hanover St., Manchester, N. H 

•sr ' 

aSranite ^tate HBaga^me 

a /Ront{)lp Publication 

[Copyrighted, 1 1) U7.] 

Vol. IV. SEPTEMBER, 1907. No. 3. 


Terms:— Per Annum ; $1.50 

Eight Months 1.00 

Single Copy 15 

To Authors. — The editor respectfully solicits contributions relating to state history, biography and legend 
'rom those who are in possession of any incidents or narrative of local or general interest. Any one not a regular 
writer, and not situated to put his notes into readable form, is requested to send the rough draft and we will under- 
take to put it into manuscript for the printer. Every article received will be carefully read and returned, if found 

Address plainly: Editor Granite State Magazine, 

No. 64 Hanover Street, Manchester, N. H. 

Entered as second-class matter, December 21 , 1905, at the post office at Manchester, New Hampshire, under 

the Act of Congress of March 3, 1879. 

Printed by The Ruemely Press, 143 Hanover St., Manchester, N. H, 


New Hampshire. (Poem, Illustrated) John Q. A. Wood 113 

Literary Associations of the Merrimack River. (Illustrated) 

George Waldo Browne 117 

Cocheco's "Indian Night.*' (Illustrated) Harold D. Careiu 125 

To the Virgin Mary. (Poem) Harry Leavitt Per ham 128 

The Shadows Men Follow. (Serial) George Waldo Browne 120 

Literary Leaves 138 

fietrantecences; of l©fjtttier 

We are glad to announce that the popular articles giving the per- 
sonal recollections of Whittier, by Prof. J. Warren Thyng, are about to 
be issued in pamphlet form with an attractive original cover design. 
No more beautiful publication, relating to him who, if not a native, 
deserves much of the Granite State, has been published. Only a lim- 
ited number has been printed. Sent postpaid for fifty cents. 

64 Hanover St. Manchester, N. H. 


The New Visible FOX 

is the latest and only perfect visible Type- 
writer that correctly solves the objections 
that heretofore have always been made 
against frontstroke machines. 

Key Tension, z i-z ounces; Aluminum 
Key Levers; Bali-Bearing Carriage ; Two- 
Color Ribbon; Interchangeable Carriage, 
Tabulator Line Lock. 

The Fox courts scientific investi- 
gation by typewriter critics. 


41 Hanover St., Manchester, N. H. Tel. 309-12. 

General Agents for New Hampshire for the 

ight Running Blind and Visible FOX, and the Low Priced POSTAL, 
The Best HIGH AND LOW PRICED Writers in the World 


We have a limited number of the following books uhich we offer at special re- 
lictions in price to subscribers to the Granite State Magazine. These books are new 
id in good condition, unless otherwise stated. Sent postpaid. 

)ERRYFIELD, now Manches- 
sr,N. H., Vol. I, 1751-1782. 
r ol. II, 1782-1800. Compiled 
nd edited by George Waldo 
►rowne. Cloth, gilt top, oc- 
ivo, deckle edge. 400 pp., 
lap and illustrations. Price 
.2.50 each. These books are of 
reat value to those interested 
l the early history and gen- 
ilogy of this vicinity. A 
pecial discount of twenty-five 
er cent made to subscribers of 
[lis magazine. 

xranite State Pub. Co., 



N.H., by William Little. 

Octavo, cloth, illustrated, over 
300 pp . 1870. Price, $3.00. 
To subscribers of this magazine 
S2.00. Mr. Little was a pains- 
taking historian and his History 
of Warren contains more infor- 
mation regarding the Indians 
of New Hampshire than any of 
its state histories. 

j HAMPSHIRE. Alonzo J.Fogg. 
j Sheep, map and illustrations, 
I good second hand condition. §3. 

Sale By the 

Hanover St., Manchester, N. H 


The New Visible FOX 

is the latest and only perfect visible Type- 
writer that correctly solves the objections 
that heretofore have always been made 
against frontstroke machines. 

Key Tension, 2 1-2 ounces; Aluminum 
Key Levers ; Bali-Bearing Carriage ; Two- 
Color Ribbon; Interchangeable Carriage, 
Tabulator Line Lock. 

The Fox courts scientific investi- 
gation by typewriter critics. 


41 Hanover St., Manchester, N. H. Tei. 309-12. 

General Agents f«>r New Hampshire for the 

ght Running Blind and Visible FOX, and the Low Priced POSTAL, 
The Best HIGH AND LOW PRICED Writers in the World 


We have a limited number of the following books which we offer at special re- 
ctions in price to subscribers to the (JRANITK STATE MAGAZINE. These books are new 
cl in good condition, unless otherwise stated. Sent postpaid. 

ERRYFIELD, now Manches- 

, N. H., Vol. I, 1751-1782. 
ol. II, 1782-1800. Compiled 
id edited by George Waldo 
rowne. Cloth, gilt top, oc- 
vo, . deckle edge, 400 pp., 
ap and illustrations. Price 
2.50 each. These hooks are of 
eat value to those interested 

the early history and gen- 
logy of this vicinity. A 
eeial discount of twenty-five 
r cent made to subscribers of 
is magazine 

X. II. , by William Little. 
Octavo, cloth, illustrated, over 
300 pp . 1870. Price, $3.00. 
To subscribers of this magazine 
$2.00. Mr. Little was a pains- 
taking historian and his History 
of Warren contains more infor- 
mation regarding the Indians 
of New Hampshire than any of 
its state histories. 

HAMPSHIRE. Alonzo J.Fogg. 
Sheep, map and illustrations. 

anite State Pub. Co., 

good second hand condition. $3. 

For Sale By the 

64 Hanover St., Manchester, N. H. 

QSramte ^tate jtygaga?ine 

a £Clonti)lv Publication 

[Copyrighted, 1907.] 

Vol. IV. OCTOBER, 1907. No. 4. 


Terms:— Per Annum fl.50 

Eight Months 1.00 

Single Copy 15 

To Authors. — The editor respectfully solicits conttibirtions relating to state history, biography and legend 
rom those %vho are in possession of any incidents or narrative cf local or general interest. Any one not a regular 
writer, and not situated to put his notes into readable form, is requested to send the rough draft and we will under- 
take to put it into manuscript for the printer. Every article received will be carefully read and returned, it found 

Address plainly : Editor Granite State Magazine, 


No. 64 Hanover Street, Manchester, N. H. 

Entered as second-class matter, December 21, 1905, at the post office at Manchester, New Hampshire, under 

the Act of Congress of March 3, 1879. 

Printed by The Ruemely Press, 143 Hanover St., Manchester, N. H. 


Gone. (Illustrated Poem) John Barroxvs 141 

Literary Associations of the Merrimack River. (Illustrated) 

George IValdo Broicne 143 

Picturesque Scenes Along the Merrimack Opp. 150 

Folk-Lore of the Connecticut Valley John M. Currier, M. D. 151 

Heart of Childhood Felicia Hemans 159 

The Siege of the Wolves Joseph Gilman 160 

The Appletree. (Poem) Charles A. Stickney 163 

Westward, Ho! Nathan Hale, Esq. 164 

Bound for Kansas. (Poem) Ed. Blair 166 

The Shadows Men Follow. (Serial) George Waldo Browne 167 

Editor's Window 178 

Literary Leaves 181 

CleminiScenceS of T©f)ittier 

We are glad to announce that the popular articles giving the per- 
sonal recollections of Whittier, by Prof. J. Warren Thyng, are about to 
be issued in pamphlet form with an attractive original cover design. 
No more beautiful publication, relating to him who, if not a native, 
deserves much of the Granite State, has been published. Only a lim- 
ited number has been printed. Sent postpaid for fifty cents. 

64 Hanover St. Manchester, N. H. 


Uttcrar? Jflottz 

T. Thokndyke, Attorney at Law. By Herbert I. Goss. Cloth, gilt top and orna- 
ents, octavo, 496 pages, 66 portraits besides that of the author. Price, S3. C. M. Clark 
iblishing Company, publishers, Boston, Mass. For sale in Manchester by Goodman. 

The sumptuous edition of the work scheduled above is what is called the "Portrait 
dition" of this story by a New Hampshire writer of New Hampshire characters and 
enes. There is a trade edition which sells for Si. 50. This contains the text unabridge, 
thout the portraits. 

A book by a local author always attracts more or less interest among those who know 
e writer or is familiar with the scenes he pictures. This book thus began to attract atten- 
>n from the day of its announcement as a forthcoming publication, and advance orders 
.me in freely. Mr. Goss is well known as an up-country lawyer, who has been solicitor 
Coos county and has held other offices. There is little if any attempt at fine writing in 
s story, but merely a plain, matter-of-fact recital of everydav scenes. It is evident that 
: made free use of personal knowledge in building up his romance, and prominent people 
e brought into the book. One by one, beginning with himself, individuals are introduced 
id placed upon the checker board of action with mathematical precision. Lawsuits and 
bing excursions alternate with easy regularity. A minute description of the White 
ountains fills a chapter and more, followed by a dialogue held by the Man with a Voice, 
which the author becomes philosophical and otherwise. 

Among the many well-executed half-tones that help swell the volume, we find the por- 
aits of some of the most prominent men in the state of to-dav and yesterday, running 
om Passaconnaway, the dusky governor of the primitive confederacy of Indian days, 
id Major Robert Rogers, the Ranger Chief, to ex-Governor Chester B. Jordan, Col. 
enry O. Kent and others of our day and generation. If written as a holiday recreation, 
e book must be considered a success; if intended as a bid for literary honors, the end is 
>t yet. 

Tsienneto: A Legend of Beaver Lake. This finely illustrated booklet of Beaver 
ake makes a beautiful souvenir for those who wish a memento of this locality. Sent by 
ail for twenty-five cents, postpaid, by R. N. Richardson, Derry, N. PI. 

Among Mr. Badger's new books announced in his fall list, we note, "The Negro, a 
:enace to Civilization," by R. W. Shufeldt, M. D.; "Galahad, a Knight Errant," by May 
. Southworth. "Ropes of Sand, Sketches and Poems," by Lura K. Clendenning. 

Cfje 2?est Paper for £amiiv fteaotng 

The contents of The Youth's Companion are chosen with a view to the interest of 
II tastes and ages. The father, as well as the son, enjoys the tales of adventure: the 
tother renews her girlhood in the stories for girls, while the paper always abounds in 
tories, long and short, which may be read aloud in the most varied family group to the 
een pleasure of all. 

Full illustrated Announcement- of The Companion for 1908 will be sent to any 
ddress free with sample copies of the paper. 

New subscribers who send $1.75 at once for 1908 will receive free all the remaining 
isues of 1907, besides the gift of The Companion Four-Leaf Hanging Calendar for 
908, in full color. 


144 Berkeley Street. Boston, Mass. 

Granite ^tate ^lBaa?tne 

3i JEJontfjlp Publication 

[Copyrighted, 1907.] 

Vol. V. NOVEMBER, 1907. - No. 5. 


Terms:— Per Annum $1.50 

Eight Months 1.00 

Single Copy 15 

To Authors. — The editor respectfully solicits contributions relating to state history, biography and legend 
rom those who are in possession of any incidents or narrative of local or general interest. Any one not a regular 
writer, and not situated to put his notes into readable form, is requested to send the rough draft and we will under- 
take to put it into manuscript for the printer. Every article received will be carefully read and returned, if found 

Address plainly: Editor Granite State Magazine, 


No. 64 Hanover Street, Manchester, N. H. 

Entered as second-class matter, December 21, 1905, at the post office at Manchester, New Hampshire, under 

the Act of Congress of March 3, 1879. 

Printed by Thk Ruemely Press, 143 Hanover St., Manchester, X. H, 


The Old Oaken Bucket. (Illustrated Poem) Samuel Woodivorth 183's Pioneer Pastor. (Illustrated) Charles B. Heald 187 

A Legend of Winnipesaukee. (Poem) L. J. H. Frost 194 

The Early Voyageur. (Illustrated) George Waldo Browne 195 

Castles in the Air. (Poem) Harry Romaine 19S 

Slavery in New Hampshire Isaac W. Hammond 199 

In the New Hampshire Hills. (Poem) Seldeu L. Whitcomb 203 

Col. James Rogers Walter Rogers, B. A. 205 

Xapoleon AT MalmaISON. (Poem) Frederick Myron Colby 217 

The Secret of the Haunted House Julia A. Sabine 219 

Indirection. ( Poem) Mabel Porter Pitts 229 

Message of the Hermit Thrush. (Poem) Mary C. Butler 230 

The Shadows Men Follow. (Serial) George Waldo Browne 231 

Editor's W i n do w 231 

Literary Leaves 

(^tutorial Hookout 

Among the attractive articles to appear in the Granite State 
Magazine as rapidly as space will allow, we wish to mention ''Granite 
State Governors," by Gray Fairlee. These sketches not only give, 
written in a concise style, clear-cut biographies of New Hampshire's 


chief executives from the earliest provincial officer to the present time, 
but embrace the political history of this period, together with a summary 
of the leading events. The series thus becomes the first important 
political history of the state. Portraits and other illustrations will 
accompany the text. 

Utterarp J&otc$ 

Christian Art. An illustrated Monthly Magazine, devoted to current Church Build- 
ing, American and foreign, and the allied Ecclesiological Arts, with expert discussions of 
all topics relating to Christian Archaeology. Edited by Ralph Adams Cram, F. A. I. A. 
F. R. G. S. f Associate Editor for Great Britain and Ireland: Rev. Peter Hampson Ditch- 
field, M. A. (Oxon), F. S. A., F. R. II. S. Terms, $5 a year. Richard G. Badger, The 
Gorham Tress, 194 Boylston St., Boston. Mass. 

Christian art is the direct emanation of the Church. Having its beginnings in ths 
early ages of Christianity, it developed to its fullest powers during the great period of 
mediaeval civilization, when religion and life were almost convertible terms. Thereafter, 
entering upon a period of decadence toward the close of the sixteenth century (when this 
intimate relationship began to be ignored), it reached a period of almost complete debase- 
ment in the eighteenth century from which it has never fully recovered. 

Believing, as we do, that Art, to regain its highest flights, must unite once more in 
indissoluble bonds with Religion (since in all times and everywhere this has been the source 
and primary impulse) we desire in Christian Art to emphasize this fact; through forgetful- 
ness of which so much injury has been done to Art with a consequent weakening of the 
work of the Church. It is our belief, too, that a revived interest in ecclesiastical art 
throughout the Christian World cannot fail to operate as a potent force to draw together 
all bodies of Christians in a common interest. 

Christian Art deals with the question of Religious Art from three points of view, the 
historical, the theoretical, the practical. It aims to cover, as far as possible, the entire field 
of Art in its relation to Religion, and treats of Architecture, Painting, Sculpture in stone 
and wood. Stained Glass, Metal Work, Goldsmiths' Work, Embroidery, Printing, and 
Illuminating. Heraldry, Music, and Liturgies. 

It contains- fully illustrated papers by expert authorities on the theory of Christian 
Art as applied to these various fields; illustrated articles on the great works of the past in 
all the provinces of Art, and critical records of all, both good and bad, that may be done 
at the present day in these various domains. 

The Youth's Companion Calendar for 190 . The publishers of "The Youth's 
Companion will, as always at this season, present to every subscriber whose subscription 
($1.75) is paid for 1908 a beautiful Calendar for the new year. Four paintings by artists of 
distinction are reproduced in the four panels of the Calendar by a process of color-print- 
ing which has been recently brought to remarkable excellence. The first of the panels is 
an inspiring sea scene, full of the beauty of the wide ocean and sky, and the joyous rush 
of the homeward-bound ship. The second is a fine cattle piece. The third pictures an old 
mill at Zaandam — typically Dutch in treatment. The fourth panel depicts a "Girl with 
Roses" — a charming face, exquisite in color and expression. All the pictures are worthy of 
preservation long after 1908 has passed into the good old times. 

Granite Jnate jpaasine 

H .JEonthlp Publication 

[Copyrighted, 1907.] 

^ol. IV. DECEMBER, 1907. No. 6. 

3EORGE WALDO BROWNE Managing Editor 

Terms: — Per Annum $1.50 

Eight Months 1.00 

Single Copy 15 

To Authors. — The editor respectfully solicits contributions relating to state history, biography and legend 
rom those who are in possession of any incidents or narrative of local or general interest. Any one not a regular 
writer, and not situated to put his notes into readable form, is requested to send the rough draft and we will under- 
take to put it into manuscript for the printer. Every article received will be carefully read and returned, if found 

Address plainly: Editor Granite State Magazine, 


No. 04 Hanover Street, Manchester, N. H. 

Entered as second-class matter, December ai, 1905, at the post office at Manchester, New Hampshire, under 

the Act of Congress of March 3, 1S79. 

Printed by The Ruemely Press, 143 Hanover St., Manchester, N. H. 


The Whittier School-House. (Illustrated Poem) John Greenleaf Whittier 243 IN Old Dunstable. (Portrait) Daniel Edwards Kennedy 247 

Magic. (Poem) Herbert Bashford 250 

Thoreau and H is Mother George Bancroft Griffith 251 

Three Famous Voyages. (Illustrated) Winsor Brownell 255 

In My Acadia. Poem) Frank Monroe Beverly 202 

The Shadows Men Follow. (Serial) George Waldo Browne 263 

Come Home. (Poem) Alice D. O. Green-wood 271 

Parthenia E. Hurd-Allen R. W. Allen 272 

Editor's Window ~ Editor 2S2 

Pictures from a Picture Land. (Text and Illustrations) 

J. Warren Thyng Frontispiece, Vol. IV 
Contents Vol. IV 

Hiterarp HeabcS 

Japan: The Place and the People. By George Waldo Browne. Extra large 
8vo., 16 colored plates, 60 full-page half-tones, 260 text cuts, 432 pnges, cloth, gilt top. 
Price, $3. Dana Estes & Co., publishers, Boston. For sale in Manchester by Goodman. 

This work is a historical and picturesque description of the brilliant Oriental land, 
containing a complete account of the Japanese people, their traditions and civilization, 
from the prehistoric origin of the race down to the present time, with the topography and 
scenery of Japan. 

"Written in a readable, fluent style, the author gives us alluring glimpses of life in 
both country and city, and has the faculty of transferring to his pages the elements of color 
and poetry so indispensible to the work of the historian wno attempts to write of this most 
imaginative of races and most dreamy of lands." 


The Great Galleries of Europe. Here is a unique series of art books, repro- 
cing the great works in four of the leading art galleries of Europe, viz.: The Tate Gal- 
ry, The Louvre, The Luxembourg, and The National. Each collection, printed hand 
mely in sepia, is preceded by an historical sketch, and the works, either together or sep- 
itely, make a beautiful offering. There are 64, i6mo. pages, and they retail for fifty 
its each. H. M. Caldwell, publisher, Boston and New York. 

Fires of Desire. A Tale of India. By Lawrence R. Mansfield. Fully illustrated. 
>und in silk cloth, i:mo., 354 pages. Price, $1.50. C.M.Clark Publishing Company, 
)ston. For sale in Manchester by Goodman. 

The central figure in "Fires of Desire" is a young American clergyman, who is sent to 
dia as a teacher. Before leaving his native land, he becomes engaged to a beautifu:, 
gh-minded young woman. In Calcutta he meets a pretty native girl, and the fires of his 
sire consume his real character to such an extent that he betrays the girl. 

The end is tragic. The subject has been handled in such a way that it can have no 
her effect than to teach a great moral lesson. It is a story that every thinking man and 
>man should read. 

Three volumes of poems come to us from that knight errant of the muses, Richard G. 
idger of the Gorham Press, Boston. These are dainty izmos. 

Reynard the Fox. By William Madoc. This volume describes the court of the 
imal world, in which trie short comings of the so-called "higher" life is satirized, 
ice fifty cents. 

Heather to Golden rod. By E. C. M. This is a collection of about eighty poems 
ion various subjects, mainly upon everyday life and scenes. Price, $1. 

Verses by the Wayside. By Edna Smith-DeRan. Price, $1.50. Here, too, we 
2 given a miscellaneous collection of lyrics of more or less interest and merit. Perhaps 
e following stanzas from a poem entitled "Faith" will give a fair idea of the whole: 

"Sometime, somewhere, we'll meet again, 
And say farewell to parting pain; 
And though it may be that months or years 
Will intervene. Perhaps sad tears 
May bathe thy cheeks or dampen mine. 
Yet this I know, we'll meet again." 

Cherokee Rose, and Other Southern Poems: By Zitella Cocke. This a dainty 
no. of 96 pages, with the flower whose title it bears ornamenting the front cover. Pub- 
led by Richard C. Badger, Boston. Price, $1. 

We gladly give this book a word of praise, for we believe it deserves it. Among the 
ty-odd lyrics that are included here are several gems, while there is a variety to suit the 
lest searcher after poetical offerings. The following pretty tribute to the namesake of 

volume forms the opening stanzas of the leading poem: 


Garden roses all are praising, — 
Gorgeous urns of balmy incense, 
Persia's graceful, proud sultanas, 
Provence Darlings, burning Tuscans, 


Sunny Seville's regal daughters. 
Blooming on the lawn and terrace, 
Like the queens of ancient tourney, 
Peerless in their high-born beauty; 

But one born this side the sea 

Is a fairer flower to me — 

That sweet rose, the Cherokee! 

With her loving arms embracing 
Cotton-field and broad plantation, 
How she she cheers the heart of toiler! 
And her radiant snow-white blossoms, 
Gleaming through the moonlit distance, 
Seem like bands of white-robed maidens, 
Like the sacred vestal virgins 
With thek lustrous lamps of silver. 

But a country rlow'ret, she, 

Yet no rose at court could be 

Lovelier than the Cherokee! 

The Stork Book. By Newton Newkirk, with striking and appropriate illustrations 
y Wallace Goldsmith. Cloth, i2mo., 125 pages. Price, $1. H. M. Caldwell Company 
ublishers, Boston. 

For downright mirth-provoking nonsense, with more or less common sense iutermixed, 
bis book takes the prize. There is a smile on every page and a sly hint in every corner. 
'or instance: 

"Frequently The Stork, in advance of his arrival, sends a telephone message he is 
oming. But if you ask him whether he is bringing a boy or a girl he invariably rings off 
nd hangs up the receiver. . . . The reason is obvious. If he should give notification that 
e would bring a girl and a boy was wanted, he might stand on the front steps until his leg 
ched and no one would come to the door. If it were the custom for The .Stork to give 
dvance notice of sex, the father of seven daughters would probably be the father of six 
oys and one girl." 

The illustrations, grotesque, riidculous, in keeping with the text, and flung with a lavish 
and over every page, help to broaden the smile and teach the lesson underlying each para- 
aph given with the sugar-coating of mirth. 

Kitty-Cat Tales. By Alice Van Leer Carrick. Illustrated by Homer Eaton Keyes 
d Bertha G. Davidson. Cloth, i2mo., 237 pages. Lothrop, Lee and Shepard Company, 
blishers, Boston. Price, $1.25. For sale in Manchester by Goodman. 

This book is a very real Kitty's Arabian Nights. The author allows the favorite kitten 
little Dolly, her mistress, to tell this series of Cat Legends, occupying nine nights in 
ing it. For the first time the most delightful of cat stories of many lands are brought 
gether and made into one happy group. The first night the little story-teller tells of 
he White Cat"; on the second, the story of "The King of the Field Mice"; on the third, 
5 story of "The Discontented Cat"; and so on until the ninth night is reached, when the 
der, as well as little Dolly, is given a pretty version of "Puss in Boots." The plan of 
> work is a happy thought of the author, and she has accomplished her purpose in a way 
ich cannot fail to interest, not only the little ones but their mothers. The titles and 
trations afford most attractive delineations of the general ideas of the text. 



Happy Christmas to You, My Friend. Compiled by Mary C. Vose. Another 
Badger's i:mos., which sells for £1.25. 
These selections, from various authors, show the discriminating care of the compiler 
id afford the seeker after verse relating to this good day a wide choice. The book is a 
sautiful gift for the season. 

A Prodigal, By Mary Wallace Brooks. A tastefully printed volume of 1S7 pages, 
zmo., cloth, gilt top. Price, $125. Richard G. Badger, The Gorham Press, publishers, 
oston. For sale in Manchester by Goodman. 

This novel follows a popular vein, describing in pleasant language the reunion of a 
Lther and son, separated, as it seemed, for life. But there is that sweeter and nobler pur- 
ose than even this beautiful exchange of affection — the reunion of lovers. Rather the v 
folding of two lives into one. The key-note of the story is expressed in the words of the 
vain, lover and sweetheart he saying: "Comradeship is the basis for love, and so we have 
roved a hundred times that we are meant for each other.'' In reply she says: **I cannot 
nswer for myself so readily — nor can you answer for me. A man and a woman can be 
omrades — it is a glorious fact — but surely marriage calls for some deeper basis than that. 
'here must be a beauty about love that is holy and far-reaching. A woman might give up 
er all for her husband. She would not do that for her chum." 





lr. Carleton's latest Poems and Sketches. Best of Current Literature. Edited to Interest and Inspire. World- 
wide in Scope and Purpose. 64 pages, Finely Printed and Illustrated. 






Frederick L Wallace, 



f¥2odern EmbaSmer. 

Personal ;\ nd cai'eful at 
* I given at all tines, l-.xperienc 
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When ans-werifig advertisements please mention this magazint 

ttCE PER YEAR $1.50. 


OL. IV. 

AUGUST, 190 


No. 2. 


i Granite 


. I AUAZJ , 


if a 

/ ^v 

- H 




THE g 









Thousands of persons lose their inheritance m 


because thev are not trained in business M 

customs and practise.— Better think this *S 


over and send the son and daughter to i§ 

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us for a thorough business training. M 



ADVANTAGE.' Information on Request % 

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\ " It's b Qf%i%A RcfotocA" I 

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SEPTEMBER, 1907. No. 3. 





Granite State/i 
















• r 

r . I 

k Ivddvl Lcȣw'UivW^ Vva*Vfe^ Pj 







Thousands of persons lose their inheritance m 

because they a re not trained in business gj 


customs and practise.— Better think this w 

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ADVANTAGE. Information on Request % 

|— 1 

1 " It's a Good School " 1 

1 1 

& J. H. HESSER., Prin. MANCHESTER., N. H. g 




OCTOBER, 1907. No. 4. 

Granite State I 






















62 Q 

| THE 

1 Hesser Business College I 

hi & 







Thousands of persons lose their inheritance 

because they are not trained in business 

customs and practise. —Better think this 

over and send the son and daughter to « ro 
_ _ _ — _ ^ 

us for a thorough business training. pj 


ADVANTAGE. Information on Request $ 

— d 

1 " It's a Good Setioo! " I 


& J. H. HESSER, Prm. MANCHESTER, N. H. ffi 

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^■fST"" -«■ 



NOVEMBER, 1907. No. 5 



Gra aite Stat 


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„,?■ „, •.. '."..- CZ. ' --%i.-.-v ■>- . •*;«.•-•«. ••.....i-'-*4M; 





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1 Hesser Business College 1 

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93 They may have other and good schooling, but they are woe- 

Cm fully lacking in farniliaritv with methods of business and do not 

ffi have even an intelligent conception of the wording or uses of 

to the most ordinary business instruments. And it frequently hap- 

qj pens that just such persons are left alone in the world with 

&5 an inheritance or business to care for. Their lack of know- 

01 ledge of ordinary things places them completely at the mercy 
£9 of other persons. Surely it is an injury to any young person 
to to start him into life without a thoro business training— and 
m the place to get such a training is in a business college. 





85 ADVANTAGE. Information on Request 


& fc 

g _=___ ^____.._^ 

A IIS 1 VvV^ yw^OOl S 

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DECEMBER, 1907. 

No. 6 

■ Granite State! 








•- ^ 



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i ■ I 

| ■ IEe § 

1 Hesser luslness College 1 

i ° i 


"It's a Good School 







They may have other and good schooling, but they are woe- Kj 

fully lacking in familiarity with methods of business and do not 01 

have even an intelligent conception of the wording or uses of q\ 

the most ordinary business instruments. And it frequently hap- & 

pens that just such persons are left alone in the world with tf\ 

an inheritance or business to care for. Their lack of know- [S 

ledge of ordinary things places them completely at the mercy (h 

of other persons. Surely it is an injury to any young person q\ 

to start him into life without a thoro business training— and 83 

the place to get such a training is in a business college. tf} 

ADVANTAGE. Information on Request [q 

93 J. H. HESSER., Prm. MANCHESTER., N. H. $ 

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